A 6 year old and his Cyndaquil.

The first Pokemon game I ever played was Pokemon Gold. I was 6 years old and Dad had finally bought me a Game Boy. A red brick of a thing that I adored…for the week that it worked. The week after, Dad took me to the shops again, and this time (with a  crumpled receipt in hand) I upgraded to a Game Boy Color. A purple one. And suddenly I could see the red flames on the back of my beloved Cyndaquil! I could see the brown in the Lvl 2 Hoothoots I was crushing. The first time I flicked the on switch I fell in love with Pokemon. An addiction took over, despite definitely being too young to grasp the intricacies of the complicated game series. Watching the blue EXP bar fill up and teeter on the edge of a level up was exhilarating, waiting for the third and final roll of the PokeBall each time I decided it was time for a new member of the team was as nerve-wracking as anything, and committing early on in the game to saving my best move’s PP (Ember on Cyndaquil) solely for the Elite Four and using it on nothing else was, in hindsight, ridiculously innocent. Life as a 6 year old couldn’t have been better.image

[llustrated by Dennis Witkin :: via flickr.com]