Spring 1990. I was turning seven years old, and I was opening presents at Dad’s house where only a few months earlier I had wished on a turkey wishbone for a Nintendo system.
My wish came true, and Mom let me set the new game system up on the extra television in her room. I became a video gamer. Well, at least in the sense that I was holding a controller and interacting with the system.
I loved The Legend of Zelda — the original one — but looking back, a rather curious thing happened: I didn’t play that game to win, but to think. I wouldn’t have known what I was doing then, but I meditated over that game.
About death.