I believe I have it now!
For over two decades now, my father has been daydreaming of a "White Christmas." And I can see why. Every Christmas movie we watch during the holiday season depicts snow as commonplace as perfectly wrapped Christmas presents under the tree or marriage proposals from hunky Canadian actors you've never heard of, aside from the aforementioned song that gets blast over his classic yuletide Spotify playlist every year. That's the thing with living in California, as my folks do, however. Their village has wet Christmases with brief intervals of bright blue sky rather than snowy ones. The irony, if you will pardon the pun, is that we would have all had a white Christmas if my parents had made the trip to my house for the occasion, given the current winter storm that is pounding my town.
However, I can appreciate his passion. I yearn for the charming white Christmases that have been a staple of popular culture since the 1940s. I honestly don't remember much about previous Christmases or even the past in general, so I can't recall the last time it snowed on the big day. The majority of what I remember from my early years is basically humiliating information that my mind may use against me if my self-esteem rises beyond "non-existent." I'm sure I spent many wonderful Christmas mornings as a child, but the only one that comes to me is the year my brother and I both received video game systems and TVs for our rooms, which eliminated the need for us to ever speak to one another. That was a wonderful Christmas, but this year I was reminded of something else lovely that had long since vanished into the mists of my memory.
In terms of gifts, I had a rather excellent year this year. A new Fujifilm lens for my X-T200 was the main present under the tree for me since I've been very into photography over the last year. I should be able to improve my animal and outdoor photos this year with a 230mm zoom. Beyond the lens, I received several Friends and a lovely new sweater. A clean ice maker, wine glasses, stockings, and a good wool Gatsby hat. I also received this $5 puzzle book from Kohl's, which my mother attempted to explain to me as to why she had purchased it.
She insisted on buying the book as soon as I opened it since it brought back memories of a game we used to play when I was a child. It was that "Professor game," she remarked. You are undoubtedly already familiar with the game she is referring about. However, me being the very stupid and forgetful person that I am, I drew a blank. Without success, she persisted in saying "the professor game, that professor game." I began to wonder, "What professor game did I play when I was younger?" Instantly, Super Solvers: Midnight Rescue sprung to mind.. However, we didn't have a PC at home while I was in elementary school, so I just played it at school. My mother gave up trying to get me to recall after I sat there for about two minutes like a moron, saying in a heartbreaking way, "I guess it meant more to me than it did to you." Although saying that is very mommy-ish, I knew I had to remember what you said. Until I could remember this specific time in our shared past, I would not open another filthy present. The majority of our other gaming memories, from , came back to me.The Avalanche of Kirbyreaching \/Mario Kart Wii, therefore I had to have this information stashed away someplace in my memory, right? I continued as a result. When I questioned her about my GPA while playing this, she said, "You were already out of college." Do you recall the professor game in which you had to save those people? She may not remember every detail of the game, but as soon as she stated "out of college," I knew exactly which game she meant. The memories began to pour back in after those three simple words tore down the mental barrier. I recalled loading the game into my Nintendo DSi, going two miles to the Kmart to get it, and spending the next week playing through it. After telling my mother everything about the game and answering her question, I distinctly recall her showing real joy in her eyes. I recalled our lengthy conversations about the game and how we would assist one another in solving its mysteries when I got home from work and saw my mother working on her own playthrough of the game on my DSi. Of course, the game in issue is .Layton the Professor and the Intriguing Village.. Since discovering this game on the pages of , I have loved it.Nintendo Power]I made it a point to get it as soon as I had the funds available. I can't get the memories of going through the whole in my head. Laytonseries, but up until yesterday, I had no idea that I had previously shared those experiences with someone else—someone I really care about—who wasn't always able to comprehend why I spent so much of my time holding a controller. Professor Laytonwas not only a crucial game for me, but it was also one of the few that my mother could play and understand why I loved video games so much. In absence of The Inquisitive Village etc.she could still believe that I should have moved on from gaming by now. Unfortunately, this is the only that LaytonWe'd connect over games. As soon as Diabolical Case]I had moved out of my parents' home and took my DSi with me when I came out in North America. We would only ever interact via games during rounds of because she never bothered to pick up one of her own.Nintendo Sportslikewise Mario Kart Wii. She no longer plays games at all; instead, she spends her leisure time using Pinterest to find recipes. If you can consider playing slot machine applications on a Galaxy Tab to be gaming, my dad is now the more competitive of the two. The Gatsby hat is adorable, the Fujifilm lens is fantastic, and the Companionship The finest present I received this year was a memory, a lovely recollection of my history that had vanished until my mom found a $5 puzzle book while shopping at Kohl's. The wine glasses are pretty goddamned Caucasian. There's nothing plastic or glass that will make me happier than that. I simply can't tell my parents about this since I nevertheless like to get all those pricey items.