Sam
It reminds me so much of when I was younger. Back when my brother was the first to play the game I worship today along with many others. Possessing that thirst that no expansion pack can quench. Not that I had some odd, less then normal, obsession with the game. It holds so much to me. It holds a time I would like to think would be my starting point if I were to carelessly press the restart button I think many people wished they possessed. And in that starting position I find a loving family not torn by greed and anger. Parents whom are still at least baring each other enough to sleep in the same room let alone the same house. I find a pool in the backyard not yet defaced by an axe. And in this pool I see myself, a child of merely 6 or so. Lonely and longing for a play mate but being denied just that. I’d give anything to feel that water again, to look up into the tree over head and catch glimpses of the fluffy white clouds and the gleaming sun between it’s healthy branches. To catch sight of the discarded plastic jungle gym and the molding sandbox still consuming unimportant action figures listlessly abandoned within it’s depths. To walk into the back yard once more out of the air condition and into the heat where my mother lay gaining her only natural tan she’d ever flaunt. To see our neighbor afraid to come into the pool with my siblings and I, to see him stand and shiver as we beg for him to sink into it’s promising warmth. I long to hear this music as I knew it best, from the game I know best, by the brother I know best. To hear it reach it’s magnificent arms out of the lone computer of the basement as I sit and watch with delight at the creations the hand of my brother form with the wondrous box. The same box that would soon bring my family’s love to a stand still. This game that would soon there after take me in as a growing child and nurture me in the most unhealthy way possibly, for being loved by a cold machine takes no place of a mother.