Shengliver’s Note: Siyu is a Chinese teen in high school. She creates this entry imagining herself to be a 70-year-old pensioner.

I am packing because I will be moving into a nursing home this very evening. I am pacing about, alone, in the basement.

Lo and behold! In a corner lies a musty box, which I haven’t touched for ages. I go over, pick it up and undo it. It turns out that the ancient box contains some articles, which are strongly reminiscent of the past long gone. In fact, they have become precious memorabilia.

A little doll appears first. I still remember how happy I was when Father bought it for me as my seventh-birthday present. I lost interest in it, however, only after a few days, so it was dropped in the ugly box and forgotten about. I feel sorry for you, my sweetie.

Next, a beige photo greets my eye. The young guys in it are my high school classmates. It captured our sunny smiles when we were going to graduate. I can’t forget how ambitious I was stepping into my GOS, YYHS, for the first time. It was not long, however, before I almost got crushed by the great pressure. I even wished to graduate sooner out of the choking stress. Several decades gone by, I miss my ex-classmates, a lot of whom I know are no longer there. How I wish someone could teleport me back to the golden days of high school, when I, at the peak of health, could bounce back from a common cold only after a good night’s sleep.

Last, my eyes fall upon a certificate, my driver’s licence. I earned a living as a cab driver for almost 20 years before I got retired. Therefore, I am fed up with driving now, although I could have been behind the wheel all day, without feeling a thing, the first month after I got the paper.

Not until this moment do I realise that it’s human nature to suffer boredom if we do the same thing day in day out. We tend to desire to taste something new and fresh, just like a child who always wants a new toy. Despite a craving for novelty, you may feel nostalgic one day, missing the good old days just like me.

I retired from the workforce ten years ago. I am shedding hair fast, but as an adolescent with sleek black hair and silky skin, I never thought I would look like this someday. My hair is greying; my face wrinkled. With dim eyes, I can’t see everything as clearly now, but when I was a cabbie on the road doing my route, I could have discerned flies flitting in the air.

We are changing, nonstop, so what we need is to change with it. We have to live with what we are left with. There is no way we could go back in time. When the taxi comes over, I will go and enjoy my restful days in a care home as a senior citizen.

I won’t be yearning for a new toy any more. I will cherish what I have left, although it is no longer as good as before.