Canasta

Why I like playing canasta:  I’m basically not a game player.  But I remember my mother’s disappointment when she returned from the senior center, despairing that they didn’t have a fourth for canasta.  As she grew older, it was the highlight of her week.  So when our library offered canasta lessons, I thought, well, maybe there’s something to it.  The first group of people I learned with never got together to play after lessons stopped.  But one day in the library I saw a friend, who was taking the class for a second time.  I waved to him, then texted him later and said, if they were getting a game together, I’d love to join.

I cannot tell you how much my canasta buddies have meant to me.  I’ve heard horror stories about groups that are nasty and ostracizing, so much so that they force members out.  But our group defines loving kindness.  We are always there for each other, whether it’s driving someone who needs a ride,  picking up medicine for someone who’s sick, cheering someone on when they’re facing a crisis, holding birthday and holiday parties.  My Mondays at canasta are my mental health days.  And they are sacrosanct.

Oh, the game.  It’s topsy-turvy fun, where you can be up one hand and way down the next.  I love to win.  I love the wild card canastas, the sevens, the aces.  Don’t ask me about getting a Splash because I really don’t understand splashes.  And I’m math-deficient.  But everyone knows that and waits while I try to count to 125.  Not many people are as understanding as my canasta friends.  I wish everyone the great joy I find in their companionship.