An Old Flame Rekindled

Last night, while making sandwiches, my cellphone's keypad went berserk. I could receive messages but I couldn't read them because the buttons refused to function. So I drove home with a useless phone amidst typhoon Yoyong's impending wrath.

When I got home, I tried to fix my phone in candlelight (it was brown out) but to no avail. Worse, one of the keypad's buttons fell off. I was feeling very frustrated so I unearthed my old battery-less Nokia 3310 from my drawer, thinking that I could borrow my mom's phone battery (she uses a 3315) so I could at least read my text messages. Well, my mom's phone was fairly new and with all my might, I couldn't remove the stubborn case to retrieve her battery.

Sighing in frustration, I got my dysfunctional phone's battery, which was a lot smaller, and tried to fit it in my chunky 3310. And whaddyaknow, it worked! I just crumpled up bits of newspaper and filled up the space to make the small battery snug and stable inside my old phone. Within seconds, I was texting away.

I didn't sleep right away last night because I kept fawning over my old 3310, re-exploring its menu and admiring its sturdiness. Sure, it's an outdated phone, but it's still reliable. I've had it for 3 years and only changed it when its battery conked out last July. Suddenly, old memories were re-awakened, and the phone became a landmark of past events. I used it when I was still in 5 and up, when Spanky and I were still in the pa-cute stage, when I went to Batanes, when I was agonizing over Art is-kool duties, etc. I realized that my phone and I had gone through a lot.

Until now, I still can't stop marveling at my new, old phone. I feel like I've reunited with an old friend, or with an old flame. After a 4-month fling with a slicker, more high tech phone, I've realized that the simple, quiet things last longer than the flashy ones.