Day 28: Scrabble
Last night, David and I played a game of Scrabble. By the way, did I mention that I won? Yeh. It was a good night to stay home. We had about eight inches of fresh snow, so I made stew and beer bread and we decided to play a game. In principle, I love Scrabble because I love words. So, it sounded good. But about mid-way through I began to tire of it. It does drag on.
I have funny associations with Scrabble. I picture my dad neatly straightening the rows of tiles, his hands steady as an ox. I remember the time I spelled the word “sex” and got 78 points. The next day I proudly announced to one of my kid's and her friend, while playing another game of Scrabble with them, that I had “sex” yesterday—on the Scrabble board!*#....
As I think about playing this game, I realize it's a very tactile experience. I reached into the bag for the tiles, groped to find them and pull them out. I placed them on the trivet and rearranged them. I set them on the board and lined them up. Scrabble is a game of touching.
Playing Scrabble also mimics life. We reach into the bag of life and pull things out without knowing what we have at first. We learn to work with the “tiles” we’ve been given. Sometimes we can’t find a way to play. Sometimes the small plays add up most. Often, learning patience is the key—holding onto tiles until we have the best move. (Last night it was “quell” for 44 points!) Not taking the game too seriously.
Who would have thought Scrabble to be such a pointed metaphor of life! I am glad I played. And by the way, did I mention that I won?