PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My grandfather used to play Domino. He played whenever he wanted to, whenever he could, or whenever someone was available to play with him. He played a lot, and was good at it. Not only with my uncles, not only with his friends, not only with my grandma, but he also played with me. I see my grandpa’s dominos particularly different than any other dominos. The back part of the dominos was black. A mysterious darkness so deep that attracts your attention, but at the same time conceals the content of the domino chip. He usually put his dominos in a vertical position, forming an impenetrable dark wall that didn’t allowed you to see what was on the other side. Not being able to see the content of his chips, I usually diverted my eyesight into his eyes. In a blink of an eye, I started to foreshadow my loss. I realized that this also happened to most of his opponents, and so I thought he could not be beaten by anything; but I was wrong. As a kid, you don’t know that time, age, and disease can beat anything, even the unbeatable. Before he passed away, and whenever I went to his house, his dominos chips were always on the same spot, always on the same table, and always reachable to almost anyone. After his departure, the dominos were put on the fridge, beside some old CDs. Whenever I wanted to play with them, the help of an adult was needed.  Even at the cold winters, even at the sweet springs, even at the dry summers, and even at the beautiful autumns, the dominos remained at the top of the fridge, unreachable for me. There were days in which my uncles grabbed the dominos and played with them. I remember that even though the dominos gained age and dust, they remained the same. The dark back, the crystal-like white front, the black dots that represent values, and even the sound of them being shuffled didn’t change at all. Years passed away, and my uncles replaced the dominos with new ones. My father kept grandpa’s dominos and nowadays I still play with them with my brothers. Even though it’s the only memento that I’ve had from my grandfather, it gives me memories as strong as the dominos’ resilience to change. It seems that time, age, and disease cannot beat my grandpa’s dominos.