Every dark December, without anyone saying anything, a bit of enchantment materializes on our supper table.
One year, Jon’s dad sent him an old box of chess pieces that his grandfather had carved, while working at sea at the turn of the 20th century.
That is how it got going.
The King and Queen and their troops looked fierce on the green tablecloth. And then somebody, no one would say who, added other symbols to the table. Many somebodies.
We weren’t even using the tabletop to eat on, it was becoming an installation.
When it’s time to have a holiday sup or two, we’ll clear it a bit. But who would want to stop this?