Shoppers arrive in waves, saddling the store associates with many small tasks. Folding jeans, hanging shirts and running hangers form the front to the back. Some could not see the picture; two days before the holidays says everything’s out of stock, sir. Rain poured in more than the customers at points, the roof reporting so with a sound like millions of grains of sand in an hourglass. The only gift people couldn’t buy and box with wrapping paper is joy. No, nothing but the giver could offer that. Somehow, I didn’t see it myself.
Toys play on our childish delights, surprising us with sudden movement or flashing lights. Even the gadgets amaze us at first. “It can do what? He spent how much on my credit card?!” The issue remains personal. It wasn’t just a toy. It was from grandma, or auntie.
I recall I received a cobalt blue Nintendo DS Lite from my estranged, biological father one year. I was pleased. After all, it didn’t take much for a 14-year-old. He did not pay alimony, but my price was much cheaper. I grew tired of being the odd one out at recess. Ugly as a Christmas sweater, he left our family. Nothing would pay us back for his absence. My mother had no compensation for the grief and anguish of his infidelities. A vehicular altercation when I was four, I hardly remembered the details. That story belonged to my mother. Yet, as I write my own chapters, I observe that I still do not drive.
The item doesn’t matter much. That DS, I sold for money. I bought something else, in a transaction much like he tried me. I sold the personal handheld to exchange for a multiplayer console for my new baby brother and sister. I don’t regret a thing. I cherish the GameCube, my first multiplayer experience with cousins left an impression. This squirt gun I found at the park 3 or so summers ago made a similar impression. I had my camera; with a friend we took photos on film and digitally. Spotting it on the bench, I took it- the white and yellow picture of summer. The thing wasn’t for play, it played back the moments I made with it.
I think adults have toys, since they’re only grown-up kids. Some lacked the chance in their youth, others the choice. Unbeknownst to myself, my adulthood manifests into a process to play the games I missed in my childhood. Life’s just a game, right? All depends on how you play it.
Post Summary
- The gift without the giver is bare.
- Money and gifts aren’t everything. The best things in life don’t cost much.
- I collect the things, games, etc. I specifically didn’t have the opportunity to enjoy.