The Chess Set

This was an essay in the last English class I took before I dropped out of college. I don't remember the prompt. It is complete bull. It was inspired by the musical, Falsettos. Hope you enjoy.

I can still remember beating my grandfather at chess for the first time. He was proud of me. I had never seen him so happy. Growing up, my grandfather was the closest person to me. I went to him for everything before I went to my parents. For the first twelve years of my life, he was my best friend. He had taught me how to play chess when I was ten and it wasn't until I was almost thirteen that I beat him for the first time. Sometimes we'd spend hours on one game. Since my father and I were the only people who played chess with him, he really enjoyed having us over and I loved visiting him.

We had remained close until I had come out to my family when I was sixteen. He was a very religious man and didn't approve of my sexuality so he wrote me out of his will. What hurts me more is that I never really got to see him before he died. At his funeral, my grandmother, his wife, was the strongest of the family. She shed no tears and comforted my mother and I, despite having been with him for over fifty years. She understood my grandfather's feelings about me, but she also understood the relationship we had. She gave me his chess set. That chess set means everything to me. It holds a lot of sweet memories.

The wooden chess set was the first thing my grandfather had bought with his hard earned money. He moved to New York City from Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico at just sixteen. He arrived alone, leaving his mother and eight siblings behind so he could start saving money to bring them all. He always told me that he bought the chess set because of how beautiful it is. He didn't even know how to play, but he was taught by an older German man.  The chess set meant so much to my grandfather because it was the first thing he bought that wasn't a necessity. It proved that he was able to support himself and his family. I was never told exactly how much it cost, only that it was expensive.

Each piece carved intricately from white oak and walnut wood. Each inch of the entire set was handmade with care. The pieces painted white, have since begun to chip away, exposing the original white oak. The carpenter never bothered to paint the walnut pieces. Some pieces are a bit damaged from my grandfather knocking them off the table, excitedly when he would play. He loved that chess set and would always pack it up and take it on family vacations so we could play wherever we went. The chess set helped me bond with my grandfather and my father.

I do not remember the first time I ever played or when he taught me. However, I do remember the day I beat him. I had already beaten my father several times. My mother knew how to play, but she never liked the game. I can't tell you what day I beat my grandfather, but I can tell you it was sometime in the fall because my grandmother had baked an ape pie which we enjoyed after the game. I remember the smile on his face. He suggested I join chess competitions, but I never did.

When my grandfather cut me out of his life for his last three years I stopped playing chess. After he passed and I was given the chess set I tried playing against my father, but I wasn't  as good as I thought I was. I try to play against my father every once in a while, but our conflicting schedules prevent it. My skills have become rusty, but the game and the set still mean so much to me. It reminds me of all the good times I had with my grandfather. I cherish the good more than the bad times because its better to focus on the good more than the bad.