You have three hundred words to justify the existence of your favorite person, place, or thing. Failure to convince will result in it vanishing without a trace. Go!
C-A-L-C-U-L-A-T-O-R. I call her Ula. Without her, I couldn’t have aced those exams in Accounting, Economics, Finance, etc. I’ve had a Ula since kindergarten. It was Papa who allowed me to play with his solar Ula, him being a civil engineer. But I wasn’t allowed to bring her at school. It was when I entered grade school that Papa bought me my own Ula. Overjoyed was the perfect term to describe that feeling of ownership. My first Ula looked like a cellphone— Nokia’s 3210 model. She beeped whenever I would press her buttons. She was the one who made me love Math. But I wasn’t dependent on her. I treated her kindly and lovingly. I couldn’t sleep without her by my side. But I lost her so early…
It was during the fourth quarter in S.Y.2001-2002 when my backpack was stolen. All my belongings were there—books, raincoat, pencils, papers, purse containing 16 pesos, and my precious Ula. I went home with depressed shoulders, having lost my first love. Papa, Mama, and all my sisters were all in agreement when they spoke,
“The thief must have mistaken your calculator for a cellphone.”
Papa, sensing my overattachment to my beloved Ula, gifted me a scientific one. She wasn’t new, as she was one of the many Papa used in his estimates. But I wasn’t concerned of her appearance. I focused on her functionality.
As my mind advances, my Ula has to progress with me. Now, at twenty, I’m using Casio fx-991 ES. She’s my current Ula. We’ve been together for about 2 years. Our relationship gets better as we spend more quality time with each other. Whenever I feel like giving up on a difficult auditing problem, she’s the one motivating me, as if speaking, “Do not fear; we can solve all problems together.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Do or Die.”