My mom immigrated from Sudan 33 years ago.[^1] She wanted what every brown person hopes to get from coming to America: a better future for her and her children. She's since come to terms with the falsehood of the American Dream, but that's neither here nor there. What matters is that she did a great job with us, if I may say so myself. I'm lucky enough to have a very good relationship with my mom - she busted her ass to always make sure that we were happy, and I'm glad I can take care of her now to give back what she gave to me. There were two things I always wanted as a kid: books and videogames. The former was easy to sell my mom on: she was caught up in the panic of kids being unable to read in the late 90s, and so took me to the library non-stop, or bought me books that were newly released and unavailable at the library. No matter how much we were struggling financially - not that I knew we were at the time - not once did my mom ever say no to a book that I asked for. That's just the kind of person she is. I was able to read at a weirdly young age because of this, and that led to the second thing I always wanted: videogames. I became enthralled with them when my cousin handed me a Game Boy Color with a copy of *Link's Awakening* during a Sudanese wedding, the bane of any four year-old boy given they're three days long and involve a lot of dancing. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. It was like someone had taken one of my *Redwall* books and stuffed it into a 58mm screen I could experience directly. My dreams were filled with swords and owls and getting zapped by shopkeepers for stealing stuff. Green quickly became my favorite color. ![[Save Your Game Please-20240317130248606.png]] I finished the whole game before the wedding was over, much to my cousin's shock. But I wasn't satisfied. I wanted more. And it just so happened that Eid-al-Fitr was coming up. So on a snowy January day, I asked my mom if I could get an N64. My mom intrinsically understood the benefits of getting a kid my age to read. Games were new territory for her. I asked my mom what made her decide to get me the N64. Even at that age I knew it was a big ask. Her response cracked me up. "Besides the fact that you wanted it, the main thing is that I knew it'd keep you home, where I could keep an eye on you," she told me. It was true. I was already an indoors-y kid, given my asthma and allergies and general introverted vibes. I didn't have much of an inclination to go out, and games decreased that inclination even further. When I pressed for details, my mom told me that she wasn't being controlling - which I'd agree with - but rather that she was still unused to America, and raising a kid there. "If you grew up in Sudan, I'd let you go wherever you wanted. But in America I barely knew English or anyone in our area, so I was worried." So my mom got me an N64 and a copy of *Ocarina of Time*. I've said it before, but this set the trajectory of my life for the better. Games made me who I am today and gave me the friends I have now, which I'm grateful for. ![[Save Your Game Please-20240317130321792.png]] But the introduction of games into my daily life was a new dynamic for my mom and I, and nothing made that more clear than saving. --- I remember the first my mom unplugged the N64 weirdly clearly. I had paused in the Water Temple of OOT to go use the bathroom. When I came back, my mom was vacuuming, and the N64 had been moved on top of the table. When I turned it back on, I saw that I had lost all my progress. I wasn't deeply upset about it or anything, but I didn't know how to explain what saving even *was* to her. It was an esoteric concept for me to describe and for my mom to understand. This would happen every so often, and became more dire as we got a Playstation and delved into role-playing games with save points. I made sure to save as much as possible to make up for any potential unplugs or power-offs - for the youngsters reading this, saving was a whole different beast on old school consoles. Auto-saves certainly weren't a thing. Every once in a while I'd play a game for a little too long and my mom would get frustrated, asking me to get off the game so I could eat dinner or do my weekend homework, and as I got older I'd tell her "I will, let me just save first." I didn't think it meant anything to her, and I didn't really think anything of saying it - it was what needed to get done, so I'd let her know. Then one day she came over to me while I was playing *Final Fantasy IX*. ![[Save Your Game Please-20240317130410943.png]] "It's almost time for dinner - save, please." So I did. I don't think I took much stock in that shift when I was a kid, but looking back on it now, it's very important to me. My mom didn't know what "saving" was - I asked her recently, and she still doesn't. But it didn't matter. What mattered is that she was adapting to my language as a form of understanding. This was a ritual that mattered to me and that I needed to do before I could disengage from my hobby and get back to the responsibilities of a growing kid - homework and dinner and socializing and so on and so forth. And to me it's become an expression of love as a result. My mom could have started yanking the cable out of maliciousness or anger or impatience. But she always gave me the space I needed to take care of the stuff I enjoyed. And I think that's an important part of my growth as a person to this day, and how I want to raise my own kids if I have any. No one likes being made to do some shit by force, or at the cost of what they love. My mom's always understood this. And by connecting with me in that moment - asking me to save my game - she was displaying that understanding. And I'm always going to appreciate that. [^1]: So did my dad but no one cares about that guy. Just assume he's in the background being useless, LOL sorry if that's too heavy