We spent Spring Break on the east coast visiting family, helping my uncle and auntie settle into their new place. Each day was filled with the tasks of rearranging furniture, assembling new pieces, and sorting through boxes of odds and ends. Evenings were filled with laughter and stories around the dinner table, where homemade favorite dishes brought together relatives and newfound friends. We realized this collective assist became more than just a chore—it became a delightful week long journey into the ties that bind us.
More than midway through our visit, an unexpected delight took centerstage—a mahjong table resurrected from furniture they brought along with them. It was plopped in the living room for more eating space as relatives came and went. Our curiosity sparked, we asked auntie if she still played. With a nostalgic smile, she admitted it had been a while and walked back towards the kitchen.
We were determined to change that.
And so, for the next two days, we found ourselves immersed in the world of mahjong, guided by her patient teaching. There were moments of confusion—mixing up CHOW, PONG and KONG, accidentally discarding the wrong tile, calling a flower tile a character and vice versa, to flagrantly miscounting sticks—but with each mistake came laughter (more like howling) and learning. For the first two hours, our tiles remained face up as we absorbed the strategies and intricacies of the game. But what truly lit up the room was the joy in my auntie's eyes as she played her favorite game once more, this time with a new generation. One that had not taken to the standing weekend mahjong traditions she loved and was a part of for the past 40 years.
As the clacking of tiles echoed through the room, stories of elders whispered in the air, weaving the past with the present. We shared laughs about sneaky uncles and wise grandmothers, blending our family stories into every game.
On our final night, just when we thought our mahjong moments had reached its peak, auntie surprised us with a treasure from the past—a weathered mahjong set, a gift from her sister-in-law many years ago. As she carefully unzipped the old blue plastic case, the nostalgia hung heavy in the air. With tender care, she ensured every tile was accounted for before passing it on to us, a piece of family history to carry home. As we packed it away, we smiled eagerly, knowing that our mahjong would continue across the miles.
We're looking forward to our next reunion, ready to play - tiles upright and only facing each player this time -with a newfound confidence and a mean game face. But first, many rounds of mahjong ahead to up our game!
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Some things we had to get when we got home (affiliate links below):
A new mahjong case to replace the old one. A good quality mahjong mat to put on our table as we don't have a mahjong table -yet! Other than that, we're good to go :-)
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