Memory

Before I checked the box, I assumed that the game of Memory we own had at least two hundred tiles. I was shocked to learn there were only seventy-two as that seems far too low. I know that as a child we also had the game, but the way I recall it was the tiles had items that were quite different from one another though they shared a common theme. If for example it was a sports edition there would be exactly one set of basketballs, one set of golf tees, one set of hockey pucks…you get my drift. This made it a quick game to play, slowing you down only long enough to ponder if that was a volley ball in the bottom right corner or a soccer ball.

Our kids have a Disney princess edition which is exponentially harder. There are multiple matches of Belle, Aurora, Cinderella, Ariel and Mulan. There are also card of them pictured alongside their side kicks and romantic interests. You may very well have seen Belle in the top right, bottom left, second column AND fourth from the right at the bottom – and none of the cards match up.

The other glitch that I have in playing this game is the wildly unstable emotional state of the players I tend to play with. After one sister earns her first (HARD WON) match, there is exuberant applause and hugs on par with qualifying for an Olympic pursuit. The second match elicits scorn (and usually tears, sometimes in reverse order). Pair that with my fellow players’ inability to flip the cards over in any sort of orderly fashion and my desire to clean as I go, ultimately rearranging tiles to sate my (self-diagnosed) mild ADD which flares up at the sight of crooked lines of cardboard squares (I never said I wasn’t a MONSTER) and you can understand why this game takes approximately two years to play each round.

But as Little Sister excitedly asked to play (while shaking the box over her head with wide-eyed delight) I wasn’t wondering how she could forget about the turmoil of playing a game together, or how long it would take to complete, or even how many turns I would make it before declaring that I should probably make a midday pot of coffee. I thought about what we were actually doing while we sat on the living room floor rug and how my husband was at work that very moment making it possible for us to be together doing just that. We weren’t merely playing Memory – we were each making one.

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