Dear Diary...

A couple of years ago, my dad and I had a fairly big argument about chess. Yes, of all things, it was the strategic game that caused the eruption, and it wasn't even a playful argument about winning or losing the game. Far from it. Instead, the long-winded fight was about whether or not I actually wanted to play it.

Since I was young, my dad has often mentioned (at times when I'm usually in the middle of something like reading) that we should play chess. I was smart, he said. I would be good at it. He liked it. It was fun. And I would usually shy away, especially in more recent years. As I mentioned, he usually would bring it up at inconvenient times for me, and I also think he had generated expectations that I felt put pressure on myself. So this one particular day when it was brought up, I made an off-handed comment about how I had been putting it off because I had never really intended or wanted to play in the first place.

To be honest, I don't remember the specifics of the argument because it was so irrational and became such a big deal without having many rational points. It became less about chess and more about who was right--my dad or I--about the situations when the subject of chess had been brought up and what I should have done about it. We were both stubborn and I was frustrated that the argument was not dropped quickly. Dad wanted me to see his side, but I was mostly intent on explaining why I had never wanted to play chess that I didn't fully see why he was upset.

Unfortunately, I cannot explain how we "came to an understanding" on this subject. I believe we simply became tired of arguing and were obliged to go about our day and eat dinner or something necessary like that. As much as I love my family, we are not the best at communication. However, if we were to come to an understanding, I believe it would involve recognizing that we had different viewpoints and we should try to explain them without getting so defensive next time.