Grandmother believed in white tablecloths, polite dinner conversation and elbows always to one's side. Each roll was carefully rounded and properly browned. Each slice of ham was meticulously the same thickness as each other slice. Each spoonful of peas was properly drained. After the dishes were done and the lace tablecloth folded and stored, dominoes were in order, if there was company, or checkers if there was just the two of us. I was fourteen before I ever beat the old lady, but it was a honest win. Shortly before the stroke that took her, she took a small, old deck of cards out of her neat desk and taught me a new game: solitaire. Some nights now, when the white lace tablecloth has been folded and put away, I carefully shuffle the cards and make seven neat rows. I don't win all that often, but each win is an honest one.

Originally publised in Paragraphs.