The safety of nostalgia

I found my old gameboy SP the other day. It was buried deep under one of the many piles on my desk. I knew what it was before I saw it – the smooth touch of the surface in my hands, the blocky-chunkiness of it pressed against my palm ignited so many memories inside me that I couldn’t help but smile.

This gameboy has been with me for a long time. It was with me in high school. It was with me during that long hair period I went through in college (never again). It was with me when I was camping in France with my first proper girlfriend. It went with me to University, to Romania, to a hundred other holidays and adventures. I’ve had it tucked in my pocket on countless occasions, just so I know it is there. Just so I can hold it.

I suppose it has become a sort of totem. Whenever I feel the Gameboy, I know everything will be alright. Perhaps because it has been with me for so long, it represents all the days I have survived. It represents so many steps I have taken to get here – and reminds me that I can take so many more.

So even though this gameboy is so old that it freezes when I play games on it, and if I wanted to buy more games for it they would cost an arm and a leg and another arm (because capitalism), I cannot get rid of it. I cannot let it go. I suspect it will travel a few more places with me before it is done.

Thanks, gameboy. You are doing good.