Letting Go

I lost my cellphone recently.
It slipped out of my pocket (I can see it all in my mind), while I was on a taxi, on my way home.
I cried a little over it. I was hoping to use that phone for a very, very long time. It was a favorite. I got that phone with a purpose. I needed a phone that was compatible with my palm, and it turned out the phone was already a model that was out of production.
I took the effort to go through every store in Greenhills just to look for it.
And I found it.
And loved it.
And then lost it.

It was funny, but it was the same feeling I had when I was looking for my palm. It felt like I was looking for an antique item. They were not the latest fads, and the store sellers might have found it weird that I was looking for items that were not very popular anymore.

Anyway, because modern life dictates that I will need a cellphone in order to continue living, I went off to the second hand cellphone shops one rainy afternoon when the queue for my jeep ride was rather long.
I went from one shop to another asking if they had phones less than one thousand pesos. They thought I was asking for a model.
But I eventually made a six hundred peso purchase.

I miss my old phone.

It takes a while to get used to a downgrade. But I have this intention to hold on to my P600.00 prize, as a sort of punishment (my previous phone was the fourth phone Clark Kent and I lost between the two of us in just a year), or look at at this way - a reminder - that it was just a thing.
My friends were very nice about it when I told them about my loss.
"Di bale adda kasukat na nga maymayat." (It doesn't matter. It will be replaced by something better.)

Hey, I got a text message.
My P600.00 phone works. That's all that matters, right?

Sigh.