Healing through words 😄

Someone recently asked me, “What was your first video game?”

I checked my memory. Nothing.

Then it struck me: I have never played a video game in my life. Apparently, I missed an entire revolution while sitting comfortably outside it. 😂

Video games were never my cup of tea. I’ve watched my children play, though. And honestly, the amount of shouting, jumping, and emotional drama involved, you’d think they were negotiating world peace rather than rescuing a pixelated character.

Sometimes, I wonder how a person can lose three lives on a screen and still be perfectly healthy on the sofa. Meanwhile, ask them to fetch a glass of water, and suddenly they’re too tired to move.

My childhood entertainment was a different story.

My friends and I played indoor games together. No joysticks, no controllers, no internet outages, and no charging cables. Just friends, games, and enough cheating allegations to fill a courtroom drama.

Losing gracefully? We had never heard of the concept.

If someone won, they were lucky. If we lost, the game was unfair, the rules were wrong, or somebody had definitely cheated. We didn’t need gaming headsets; our arguments could be heard across the neighbourhood.

And there was no pause button when Mum called us for dinner. You either left immediately or risked losing both the game and your dinner privileges.

Today’s children have virtual enemies. We had real-life opponents who remembered our cheating for the next six months.

Technology has certainly changed entertainment. Children now chase high scores on screens. We chased victory on the floor, followed by lengthy negotiations about who actually won.

Their games need charging. Our games needed referees, lawyers, and occasionally a peace treaty! 😂

So, what was my first video game?

Let’s just say I never made it past the audience.

But the older I get, the more I realise that what made those childhood games special was never really the games. It was the friends crowded around us, the uncontrollable laughter, the silly arguments, and the simple joy of being together without needing a screen to bring us close.

Today, I watch my children immersed in their virtual worlds, and I smile. Their childhood has its own magic, just as ours did.

Still, if I could revisit one moment from my childhood, I wouldn’t ask for a gaming console or a high score.

I’d ask for one more afternoon with my old friends, one more game, one more ridiculous argument over who cheated, and one more round of laughter that made our stomachs hurt.

No graphics could improve that memory. No upgrade could replace it.

And no game over screen could ever take it away. ❤️