The Card Holder
Once upon a time in a post-apocalyptic world…
In the desolate landscape of a post-apocalyptic world, the Riley bakery held a warmth that had become Clara and Alex's refuge amid the cold realities outside. While they thrived on the necessities of survival, it was the rituals they created that painted color over the grayness of their days. Each evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, they set aside their chores and burdens to indulge in a cherished family tradition: a game of cards.
Every night, the flickering shadows of the bakery would dance as they laughed and played, the sound of shuffling cards and the clinking of mismatched pieces serving as a soothing symphony. The simple act of playing cards became a cornerstone of their existence—an escape from their day-to-day struggles where they could relax and just be.
However, tonight was different. Clara felt the strain in her hands more acutely than before. The repetitive motions of kneading dough and carrying heavy sacks had taken their toll. As she tried to hold her hand of cards, pain shot through her fingers, making her fumble as she assessed her options.
Alex, ever observant, noticed her struggle. “Mom, are you okay?” he asked, concern etching his features as he watched her wince.
“I’m fine, Alex. Just a little sore,” Clara replied, forcing a smile. “It happens.”
“Are you sure? You don’t look fine,” he continued, his brow furrowed. “We can skip cards tonight if you need to rest.”
“No, no! I don’t want to skip our game. It’s what we look forward to,” she insisted, though she cringed again as she adjusted her grip on the flimsy cards.
Drawing closer, Alex studied her hands. “Maybe there’s something I can do to help. What about a holder for your cards? You wouldn’t have to grip them so tightly.”
Clara chuckled softly, touched by his thoughtfulness . “A card holder? That’s a brilliant idea! But where would we find the materials?”
“I can make one,” Alex said, his eyes lighting up with determination. “I’ve seen logs and branches around here that are perfect for this. Just let me have an hour in the workroom.”
Clara watched as Alex sprang into action. He grabbed a small satchel, filled it with tools and remnants from the bakery’s previous life, and headed to the back room, his mind racing with possibilities. It felt good to see him so engaged, channeling his energy and creativity into a project that could make their special moments even more enjoyable.
After a few minutes of quiet tinkering, Clara’s heart swelled with pride and excitement at the idea of having a card holder. She imagined how much easier it would be to play with Alex, to laugh without the worry of struggling to hold onto her cards. Leaning against the doorframe, she gazed at the little workshop they had fashioned in the back, which had once been a storeroom filled with forgotten tools.
As seconds turned to minutes, Clara could hear the soft sounds of wood being sawed and sanded, punctuated by the occasional thud of wood meeting wood. Alex was in his element, and the warmth of his presence filled her with hope.
Finally, after a while, Alex called out, “Mom! Come look!”
Clara hurried over, her heart racing with anticipation. In the dim light of the room stood Alex, beaming proudly. He held a handcrafted wooden card holder, its form reminiscent of a small, rustic bench seat. The base was sturdy, with a slight tilt that would allow the cards to sit comfortably without slipping.
“It’s not perfect,” Alex said, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice, “but I think it’ll work.”
Clara examined the holder closely, running her fingers over the smooth edges and appreciating the craftsmanship he had poured into it. “Alex, it’s beautiful! This will make all the difference during our games,” she exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth.
They set it on the table, and Clara shuffled the deck, her excitement growing. As she dealt the cards out, she realized that her pain had diminished at the prospect of playing without struggle. She arranged her hand within the wooden holder, marveling at how every card stood neatly, making it easy to see her options.
“Alright, let’s play!” Clara declared, settling into her chair, her fingers now free to rest on the table instead of awkwardly clutching the cards.
Alex grinned, poising himself for a round of their favorite game, Rummy. The atmosphere transformed in an instant; laughter and playful banter filled the space as they played. The card holder allowed Clara to fully engage in the game, boosting her spirits and reinvigorating the tradition they had built over the years.
As the game progressed, Clara found herself teasing Alex, who tried to hide his reactions every time she laid down a winning combination. “You’re going to have to do better than that, young man!” she chided, with feigned seriousness.
He laughed, playing along. “You just wait; I’ll come back stronger!”
With each round, and every hand that played out, the card holder became more than just a functional object—it was a symbol of their adaptability and creativity in the face of adversity. Clara felt a resurgence of joy, the kind that could bloom only in the simplest of moments spent with family.
As the night drew on, and as they built a small tower of discarded cards, Clara leaned back and gazed at her son, his face illuminated by the soft glow of their candlelight. “You know, Alex,” she said, “this is what I cherish most. Moments like this, where we can be ourselves, let go of the world outside, and just enjoy each other’s company.”
“Me too, Mom,” he replied, his voice steady and sincere. “No matter what happens out there, we’ll always have this.”
With the fire of starlight shimmering outside, they continued to play, weaving tales between hands and familiar laughter. The wooden card holder, with its rough-hewn charm, became an integral part of their evenings, a testament to their creativity and love—reminding them that even in a world as unpredictable as theirs, joy could still be crafted from the simplest things.
And so, as the stars twinkled above the bakery, the Riley family found comfort in the rituals they embraced, always weaving new traditions that would carry them through even the darkest of nights.
What card games did your family play? Comment below.
