A Morning Move

I peeked out from the side pocket of a canvas tote when we stopped at the park pavilion, tumbling softly onto a cool stone table. Right in the middle of a carved grid sat a thick, circular wooden Chinese chess piece. It looked just like a tiny wooden pancake. I nudged it with my round nose, sliding the smooth, carved disk along an etched red line. It glided with a satisfying wooden clack against an empty intersection. When it stopped, my dangling suction cup swung forward and tapped its polished lacquer top with a soft click. Moving my very first chess piece felt like winning an important game, and I gave it another little approving bump.