The year is 2012

Picture this:

The sun is shining outside on a spring day after you've been dropped off by your mom in a dusty old trailer in a small trailer park. Outside it was messy, with various clutter and plants, and an empty concrete plot besides this trailer. As you're handed off to your uncle, a nineteen year old boy living there, your mom says goodbye and kisses you on the head and you're carried inside. 

You're sat down on the couch, a brown sofa with all too soft cushions that you sink into, with your uncle beside you, who turns on the big flatscreen display for you, the brown-ish black screen flickering to life as a nature channel plays, being switched to Disney XD to some sitcom. You look around at the drawn curtains and yellow walls. The coffee table, older than you in its tile and wood. That boy, your uncle, wraps an arm around you and you hug his side. He asks you about school and various parts of your life, and you respond accordingly. He smells nice. Like a cheap cologne. It's weird, but comforting. 

As a commercial for something airs, he gets bored and gets up, turning on his white XBox 360, changing the input and handing you the controller as he changes the disk and boots up some game about WWII. "Don't tell your mom about this." he says casually. "This is educational. So maybe wait three years before you tell her. But it's just between you and me." You agree eagerly and begin playing the game. You're not great but you're not terrible either. He asks you what you want for lunch, and you reply hot pockets. He tells you that's just what he was thinking, and you hear the microwave beep as he comes to sit next to you again.

I love you uncle Kieran. I wish we could spend more time together, but we both live busy lives.