My First Phone

My First Phone

When I was three years old, I loved playing with Band-Aids. I have a faint memory of a yellow wall covered with Band-Aids. There were Band-Aids so high that I did not know how it got there. When I went to China for a vacation, I was sad that they did not sell Band-Aids. When my aunt came to visit, she brought me a box of Band-Aids. I was thrilled. I clutched the box and wouldn't let go. Soon we boarded on a bus and my mom asked me for the box of Band-Aids but I was too stubborn and clutched harder. The rocking of the bus made me drowsy and I closed my eyes. When I woke up, we were at our destination and the box of Band-Aids was gone. This story was repeated to me many times. My parents always told me this story when I lost something.

In grade 7, I was in middle school. Because I took the TTC, my parents were worried about my safety, and they bought me a phone so they could contact me anytime.

“Tutoring is harder than I thought”, my friend said.
My phone vibrated and I took it out.
“Hi mom”, I said as the bus pulled to a stop...

I trudged home, recalling the story of the Band-Aid. My dad would be so mad. I kept losing stuff. I kept losing new stuff. I kept losing stuff that I like. I hesitated at the front door. What was I going to tell my mom? I gulped and took a deep breath as I opened the door. I managed to mumble out the accident. I had lost my phone and my mom rushed out to cancel my plan. When my dad came home, he was all cheery and I was too scared to break the news. My mom walked up to him and said something in a quiet voice. I saw the transformation on his face. His eyebrows furrowed and his smile faded. I hung my head. I was going to get it now. A minute passed. Then two. Nothing happened. I looked up. What was taking so long? I was surprised. My dad was supposed to be furious. He should be yelling at the top of his lungs. Instead, his lips were in a thin line but he was calm. He went into his office. I was puzzled. What had happened?

The following day, my dad seemed secretive. The moment he came home, he went to his office. He stayed there for hours. He came down for dinner later than usual. When he came down, he told me that he had researched another second hand phone. I was appalled. Not only was he not mad at me for losing my phone but also he was offering to buy me a new one. He told me that the next day we would go and get the phone. That day was pouring rain as if God was trying to stop me from buying a new phone. It was impossible to see. When we reached the spot, the man who was selling us the used phone wasn’t there. We forgot to bring an umbrella and we took shelter in a neighboring mall. Fifteen minutes later, the man came. I held the phone in my hand, feeling the familiar edges. This phone was the same as my old one, but it will never be my first phone.