One of my fondest childhood memories was in the summer of 2003. My family was just about to go on a vacation, and while that was already exciting for my 11-year-old self, the beginning of our travels kicked off with a moment that I can still recall with crystal clear clarity. Just as my dad was starting up the car, he turned around and handed out a present to me and my sister. We both opened them with reckless abandon, instantly recognizing what the telltale shape of the gifts signaled: a new GameBoy Advance game. It turned out to be a copy of Pokemon Sapphire and Ruby, and as was tradition for us Wald siblings, we always had a different version from one another. I got Pokemon Sapphire, and as far as I was concerned, it was the greatest jewel I'd ever gotten.
Over the course of the lengthy drive, I obsessively pored over a little trainer manual tucked inside the game's case. Each page made my sense of anticipation grow; every feature detailed and item listed built up a picture of what awaited me on the shiny blue cartridge. It would end up being the last holiday I went on with both my parents together before their divorce, and with so much change and uncertainty on the horizon, that little pocket of time I shared with that manual was like pure magic to me.
