Yellow Umbrella

I remember the day I was given my yellow umbrella. My mother handed it to me carefully, and I understood that it was something to be looked after. I treasured it, and soon that yellow umbrella became my most prized possession. I would not allow anyone to touch it, for fear that it might get ruined.

The first time it rained, I was loathe to use it. I complained to my mother that the colour would run, but she told me not to be silly, and went and got my umbrella herself. Finally I agreed to use it, and had a truly magical time. The rain pouring down, the bright yellow bobbing above me and my hand-me-down gumboots are the main elements of some of my fondest memories. I used that umbrella every time I was able.

I will never forget the day I missed it. I searched everywhere, high and low, but could not find it anywhere. Finally, I asked my mother where my umbrella might be, and she calmly replied that she had thrown it out. I was shocked. It was my favourite. She told me that it was too small for me now, and that we might buy a new one. I knew it wouldn't be the same, and refused to go with her. She told me that it would be my own fault if I disliked the one she bought me.



I remember the day I was given my red umbrella. My mother handed it to me carefully, and I understood that whilst it was not my yellow umbrella, it was still something to be treasured and looked after.

I guess I ended up liking that red umbrella just as much.