My Missing Soda Bottle

By Mukeshimana Deborah

Photo by Mukeshimana Deborah

If only one of us could find a soda bottle, we would have a hundred billion reasons to be fully content. Everybody’s life would be great if they had a soda bottle just like mine used to be. My bottle would hold my drink, be my greatest role model during hard times, my inspirational instrument to learn math, a photogenic creature to capture in my photographic achievements, and an amazing tool to prepare breakfast chapatis. First and foremost, my drinks used to be comfier within you: my bottle. I could travel a million miles and not get worried as you mastered the art of keeping me safe. I miss you so much, and I can’t bear acknowledging the truth. I can’t even fully express how and why you were not just a bottle to me; you were a lifetime friend. 

On the other hand, I am sorry for all the things that I should have told you but didn’t. But! I suspect that you knew anyways, as that is what great role models and mentors do. I could relax with you by my side through and after illness. You know what? I am in a struggle. I want my bottle back. 

During my childhood, my other friends would ask for my drink, and I would carefully measure out a portion for each person by using your ridges. Such features encouraged me to economize my drink, lest it would become empty.

My bottle taught me to think critically and to behave well with my friends. Guess what? Three days after you went missing, I became the most extravagant and careless girl ever. I had no valve to control me. You, my valve, had disappeared.

I used to have special breakfasts because you were the sole tool that could deftly roll out an awesome chapati. We were so good at making them together that we even made money from them. It was all due to the attractive shape you gave them. After every special breakfast, I wanted more; to grow fat again and enjoy. 

Moreover, I can’t get my head around the fact that you just disappeared. No warning! Stupid heart. Foolish heart. I was in dance practice when I received the news you were gone. I abandoned my crewmates, as my heart pulled me away, away, anywhere but there.  

I really didn’t care when I had you. I hadn’t realized that you were always the best creature to fulfill my photographic achievements. That you had always been beautifully sensitive to and glowing in light. I wonder if I will find you in my old photo albums. Actually, if you had let me, I would have taken one last farewell photograph of you to enshrine as a photographic memory. You know what? Whenever I think of that missed photo opportunity, I feel broken inside and out. 

I have felt sorrow and pain dominate my heart since I lost my truly beloved bottle. I terribly miss it. Even though mine is totally lost, gone forever, I wish everyone had such a thing as my bottle to be their greatest role model and caretaker.