What I Remember

I don't remember why I remember playing video games...

I don’t know why I remember playing video games as my younger siblings watched.  Video games weren’t often too far away from me and I would often choose to remain anti-social.  I would often go downstairs and flick on my Playstation, lighting the portable furnace to chase away the bitter cold that seemed to always found its way down into the basement.  I would play my video games any time I had a free moment, whether it was day or night.  My two sisters and brother came down the stairs, their feet pounding against the aging steps like a stampede in a bull run.  They would join me on the furniture, finding some empty spot that seemed to draw them there like a beacon, their barely contained excitement at the game eerily reminiscent of a movie we had all seen just days prior.  I hit the power switch on the small grey device and listened to the whirring sound produced by the spinning disc for only a moment.  My siblings would sit on the bed and stay with me for hours as I played the game.  They would normally argue amongst themselves over one thing or another or make odd suggestions that would be impossible to do in those games.  I found them pretty amusing, even if my stoic expressions said otherwise.  I never did consider listening to what their topic of conversation was.  In fact, I don’t recall paying much attention to what they said.  It would often go this way, as if we were building our own small little ritual that would be carried on with at least one sibling until I graduated high school and went to basic training.