I am a precious polaroid picture. I had been living in my owner’s polaroid camera for four weeks until one day, light hit my skin and I was pushed out of the camera. Soon enough, I started to transform into a colourful polaroid picture! My owner and her friends looked at me with a glint of amazement in their eyes and were competing on whether who would take me home.
After a few minutes of battling, I eventually ended up with my original owner. I was very pleased and grateful that I ended up with her. I had always wanted to see how her home looked like. When we arrived at her bedroom, she peered down at me, smiling. “Louise, time to eat dinner!” My owner’s mom called her. “Oh, wow, so her name is Louise…” I thought. Louise then hung me on her wall above her bed on a clothespin along with other gorgeous pictures. I was very happy that I made her smile. I hope she could keep me forever.
A year and a half later, Louise graduated from high school and soon entered university. I overheard from her mom that she would move to another country to study and live a better life. Upon hearing this, my heart shattered into pieces. She put me and the other pictures in a small box, slowly and carefully, examining each photo before she put them inside. Ever since I had been made, Louise always took good care of me. She would always make sure I was not covered in dust and she would always show me off to her visitors. Louise’s mom told her not to bring us as it would only add some weight to her luggage. After five days, it was finally time to say goodbye.
Every year, Louise would go back home to her parents’ house to have a vacation. Each time she went back, she would always take new pictures with her new camera, replacing us. I then realized that I wasn’t that beautiful, colourful picture anymore. I was a faded and dull looking picture.
As time passes by, Louise is now in her mid-thirties and has a family of her own. One day, when she was packing up her things in her newly renovated house, she noticed a dusty small box peering out from beneath her bed. She immediately recognized the box and pulled it out, looking at every photograph. She then saw me. I was already old, scratched and a little bit crumpled. Instead of throwing me away, she stared at me, emotionally, with a hint of smile on her face. And once again, she hung me up on her wall along with the other pictures.
I am proud of being a polaroid picture. I may be thin and small, but there are thousands of memories within me. No matter how old I look, I can still make Louise happy with no regrets.