“One more.”

“Grandma it’s nearly midnight, I’m tired.”

“You have to let me win at least one.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she had already started dealing. It was no use.

Grandma has always been a competitive soul. Mum always says that Grandma only took it easy on her until she understood the rules. From then on, it was cutthroat. She hates when people try and teach her new games, only because she can’t win.

“You first love”

A crap hand. All singles. Let’s hope the chance goes in my favour.

Pick up. Discard.

“Your turn”

Grandma takes a card from the deck and adds it to her hand.

“You know what I love about Canasta?”

I have no idea if this is about to be some mind game she has picked up over the years or a deep and meaningful story. Knowing this woman, it’s probably both.

“What?”

“It’s a beautiful metaphor of life”

Yep. Deep and meaningful mind game.

“You see, the cards you get given in the beginning might help you, but ultimately it’s the decisions you make along the way that cause you to win”

She puts a seven of hearts down on the discard pile.

“Your turn”

I pick up a card from the deck. Ace. Not helpful what so ever. I decide to indulge in Grandma’s mind game, hopefully it means I get to go to bed soon.

“But you can’t really make well informed decisions, you don’t know what the deck is going to give you along the way.

“We’ll that’s life my dear.”

I put down the Ace. Grandma continues her monologue.

“You never know what life is going to give you, you just have to make the best decision you can make given what you have at that moment in time”

As if she scripted this moment, she places down four Aces and a joker, and adds my discarded Ace to her collection, seemingly giving her the upper hand. But I know her bluff.

“I guess its also applies to the people who seem to have it all figured out.”

“How so?” She asks.

“Well you think that someone has it all together and they are about to win because of what’s out in front of them, but the cards they are hiding in their hand might tell a different story”

She smirks.

“Well yes, I agree. But the opposite is also true. A person may look like they are doing poorly, but in fact they are hiding a concealed red canasta.”

I laugh. “If that’s what you think is happening here, then you’re very very wrong.”

We back and forth for a while longer. Picking up, putting down, psyching each other out. Until finally, she reveals a concealed red canasta, bringing the game to an end.

“Ah so who was the one who was hiding the concealed red canasta?” I tease.

“Oh that, I didn’t get that to begin with. I only started with a pair of tens. But I built it up along the way. Slowly but surely. Who would of thought that the little thing I started with would become the most amazing thing in my hand? Certainly not me.”

I shake my head and smile. That’s enough metaphors for one night.

“Goodnight Grandma”

“Goodnight dear.”