This next entry is another one from my Aunt Terry.
It's not so much a specific story, as it is a fond memory.
I think sharing things like this…fond memories, small occurrences, a detail, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to be, are just as important as posting stories and pictures. It's the "little things" that make a person who they are. Sure, there might be bigger events that help to paint a picture of their life, but its the chapters that create the book.
With that being said…take it away Aunt Terry…
When I first got my computer, Carol taught me how to play
an online version of a card game called Canasta on Yahoo Games.
Even though Carol and I liked to go to casinos, she never played cards.
In fact, she liked the ferry ride over to the casino more then
she actually liked the casino itself.
I, on the other hand, like card games and have been playing for years.
So when Carol mentioned this game Canasta, I was skeptical.
Not only had I never played it, I'd never even heard of it.
The rules sound like somebody made them up as they went along.
It's the kind of game you would play in a group home for senile people.
You need two decks of cards, there's 4 jokers in play, different cards have different point values…the 7's are worth 5 points…the Kings are worth 10 points…the 3's have special functions….what the hell is all this?
Can't we just play poker?
No, Carol liked Canasta, so Canasta is what we played.
But it wasn't about the game. It was about our relationship.
Carol and I had a daily ritual.
Everyday as soon as I got home from work, I would call her on the phone.
Every day, without fail.
We would make small talk for a little while...."How was your day?"…."Fine, How was yours?"…until inevitably Carol would say, "Ok Tess, are you ready to get your ass beat in Canasta?".
And then we would both log in and play for an hour or two.
Usually it was just us, playing one on one.
We would trash talk each other while playing.
Always good natured and always for fun.
Occasionally a stranger would sign on and join our game
and then we would trash talk them.
Never in a good natured way.
After all, this was our house and these poor faceless players
had no idea what they were in for.
We played right up until Carol died.
In fact, one of the very last things I ever said to her was
"We'll play Canasta when you get home".
But she never got home.
The really strange thing is, shortly after she died, Yahoo
removed Canasta from their online games.
It's like they knew.
Without Carol, the game was over.
God knows how much I miss her.