Yesterday, Ben was digging through a stash of board games and found an old Yahtzee box. He grabbed my hand and pulled me over, asking me to play with him. We play a lot of games in our house. If we’re eating we’re playing something. If we’re driving we’re playing something. We play games, make up games (Shoopahat should be marketed!), shop for games…. we love games.
It’s no surprise I married a man as competitive (and fun loving! game loving = fun loving or so I tell myself so I don’t just seem a competitive crazy!). Once upon a time I had to play Yahtzee with my mom for 4 hours because I was winning and she couldn’t stop until she got back in the lead- I finally quit ahead, knowing she’d never give up.
Sometimes I forget small details about Austin, wrapped up in the last days and the what nows… but Ben gave me a gift when he dug through the game stash and pulled out the Yahtzee box. Not only did he confirm that he’s one of us, but when I looked down at what he was scribbling his ‘scores’ on, I saw this:
It was a small reminder of when we could sit down and play a game, laugh together, and postpone difficult things for a few minutes of fun.
It made me smile. It made me not mind the mess Ben made, and sit there playing even longer.
By the way, it’s hard to tell from the score sheets who won- he had fewer games on the card, so not sure which matched up against which. Wish we could settle it with a rematch. I might even let him win…. nah.
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