“I can play with him” he said, approaching us.

“Oh he doesn’t know how to play.” I replied, gesturing to the chess board and pieces on the table.

“I can teach him!”

Hesitating, I asked if he knew French, and without skipping a beat, the boy said an anglicized “Bonjour!”

I crouched next to the table as I translated the things this kind boy was teaching Robert. As they played, his dad walked over. I dont know why i got nervous, but I did. Dad casually looked over the game, then reminded his son that the horse can jump other pieces, and moves in a L shape.

I told dad his son offered to teach mine how to play, and he replied his son was still learning also.

The two boys played their own version of chess, until Robert decide he won (he didn’t) and began cheering loudly in the middle of the library. The other boy shook his hand, and just like that the moment was over.

When we, as advocates, say we want our kids to be seen and included, this is what we mean. It’s the small acts of kindness, like this boy reaching out to play chess with Robert, that warm our hearts and make us believe in the goodness of people. In that brief, fleeting moment, chess became a language of friendship between two boys.