February 29, 2020

Article at Poetry Super Highway

Rules of the Game

We play on a square table small enough that none need to stretch arms too far to make the clickclackclick of tiles. We shout Crak! Bam! as we form plays while nibbling on delectables from rotating hostesses, sharing griefs (death, divorce, disease) and triumphs (kids’ graduations, their growing careers or business, marrying suitable partners who produce perfect grandchildren to delight, disarm our stoic façade. At first, we invite other players then death captures everyone. The funeral director places the ancient wooden box of tiles in my coffin following the final rule of the game: the last remaining player brings the mah jongg set  to enter The World to Come.