Swish, swish, click, clack, click. My grandfather shuffles the domino pieces. A game of old people, I think.
Coffee, sometimes cheese or cake, a lit cigarette in a dish, smoke drifting to the kitchen ceiling. Click, clack, click, swish. It continues. Then everyone draws seven, white, marble dominoes and the game begins.
I watch. Voices surround me, dominoes slide into place with robust enthusiasm. “Shoot the moon!”, my grandfather declares. My mom rolls her eyes.
I find and open the box, feel the cool touch of the dominoes. Instantly, I am nine. Stacked memories come tumbling, one over the other.
Coffee, sometimes cheese or cake, a lit cigarette in a dish, smoke drifting to the kitchen ceiling. Click, clack, click, swish. It continues. Then everyone draws seven, white, marble dominoes and the game begins.
I watch. Voices surround me, dominoes slide into place with robust enthusiasm. “Shoot the moon!”, my grandfather declares. My mom rolls her eyes.
I find and open the box, feel the cool touch of the dominoes. Instantly, I am nine. Stacked memories come tumbling, one over the other.
