A generation is nurtured to succeed another, in the game of kings.
|Nestled in a cosy living room, a grandfather would spend an hour each Sunday, playing against his granddaughter at the game of chess. It took eight years until the matches turned competitive, the girl then a teen, never backed down away every consecutive defeat she suffered.
When starting to learn chess at the age of five, frustration plagued the child. With a lifetime worth of experience, the girl’s grandfather nurtured her passion to win and tamed any signs of aggression through unfaltering patience.
The man’s heart swelled in pride, the younger generation taking a shine to one of his oldest hobbies, always ready to embark in another battle of wits. After each engagement, grandfather would notice slight improvements, he’d hear the gears in the girl’s head turn sharper, and loved observing her stunning eyes survey the board longer than the previous game.
In no time at all, that young girl blossomed into a captivating young lady. Eighteen years of age brought many changes, but nothing would come between their chess games, the ambition for victory remained firmly fixed at the top of her priority list.
Matches continued to evolve, finding themselves frequently catching one another in check, only for the age advantage to maintain it’s edge.
Years passed, his granddaughter became a blushing bride, and that was shortly succeeded by the best news of all. The birth of her first child on the horizon.
At thirty-nine weeks term, the elderly man finally heard words, he’d so longed to hear.
Tears trickled down the man’s face. As they passed his lips, it raised a beaming smile.
“Oh, my love….well done...you clever girl!”
“You did that on purpose...”
“No sweetheart, I’d never lie”
“Why are you crying?”
“Because you’ve made me so happy!”
“Same time next week?”
"It would be my pleasure!"