When chess leaves the board

Jaja loves chess. But not just to play it. He actually lives it.

With him, a game can start anywhere. Even (especially) in a supermarket, between two aisles and a few perplexed looks.

Everything always starts the same way: "Shall we do chess?"

And there, everyone receives their role. Me, I am invariably the queen. Daddy, he is the king. Which means he advances at a desperately slow pace and always ends up lagging behind. But he plays the game, and that is really what counts.

The tiling becomes our chessboard. Each square guides our steps. We move like the pieces that we embody, with more or less grace according to the situations, and especially according to the aisles we have to maneuver around.

Miss M, his sister, hasn't yet understood everything about the rules… which makes the game even better. She gets corrected with the greatest seriousness:

"But no! The knight doesn't move like that!"

And obviously, that makes us laugh even more.

BabyChan, the big brother, sometimes plays with us. But watch out: rules-wise, he is even stricter than Jaja. For him, it’s no longer a game, it’s a serious business. We often tell him he has 70 years in a teenager's body. Especially when he starts to grumble or to forecast the rain with his joints that crack.

Around us, people watch. Some smile, others judge, many don't understand. We guess the thoughts without a word being spoken.

And us, we laugh. Because Daddy is late. Because Miss M invents her own rules. Because BabyChan monitors everything like an official referee. Because Jaja transforms a simple, banal moment into an adventure.

So yes, we could play the adults. Be discreet. Not attract attention.

But honestly… what’s the point?

Those moments are well worth a few astonished looks. They transform the grocery shopping into memories, and the routine into a playground.

And then deep down, accepting to play, is perhaps that: true seriousness.