An Old Dream Come True

Whenever Daisy and I reflect on life before children, there are two subjects we can never exhaust: time and money.  It seems we were sick with both.  Unless you’re lucky enough to be one of the fortunate few, once you have children, it seems like someone comes into your house while your sleeping, hits you over the head, and robs you of everything you were stashing under your mattress.  

And that goes for both assets.

Back when we were only two, we often combined our excess time and money into the unforgiving time waster of video games.  Saying that we stayed up late, playing until our eyes bled is only an exaggeration because such a thing isn’t possible.  The lack of blood wasn’t due to a lack of trying.

Daisy married into my obsession.  Before me, it was only Pac-Man, Centipede, and the occasional game of Galaga that rocked her world.  That all changed on September 9, 1999.  

Yeah, I remember the date.  

Sega released the Dreamcast on 9/9/99.  I wanted one, badly, but I couldn’t take off work to waste my time in line.  Daisy surprised me by wasting hers.  When I got home, I had a brand new system and three games waiting.  We popped in Soul Caliber and never went to sleep.  

One of my passions was now one of Daisy’s addictions.

Games became part of our ritual, and we would often talk about that day, far in the future, when we would be playing games with our own children.  I’ve never been one of the camp who believes that games are rot on the minds of the young.  I’m from the school who thinks that everything must be age appropriate, and in the proper measure.  I wouldn’t allow my child to play video games for two hours straight any more than I’d allow them to play Grand Theft Auto (well, maybe when they’re thirty).  But video games, at their best, are wonderful tools for teaching problem solving, hand eye coordination, and spacial relationships.

Life happened, and Mia was born.  We moved, and the game systems were packed away for a long hibernation.  

We have game nights on Mondays and Saturdays.  Last night, Daisy suggested that we blow the dust off the Dreamcast and see if it would still light the screen.  

It did.

We spent thirty wonderful minutes watching our old childlike expressions, newly expressed through our offspring’s eyes.  We watched Max tentatively hold the controller while making careful decisions about what to do next (his job was to make his character drill through the Earth without running out of air), and we could see Mia feel the excitement as she raced her car around a track at a hundred and fifty miles an hour without any possible danger to herself.

It was beautiful – a reminder of who we once were, who we are now, and how close we hope to always stay.  I’m glad my children can make me feel like a child and a father all at once.

Writer Dad

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