When it's All Over
I remember waking up in my hostel room last March, the Croatian sun shining through the slit in the window curtain and illuminating my twin-sized bed. Stretching my limbs and beginning my day, I checked my phone to discover that I would be going home. I would have to leave all that I had found in Croatia. My sunset strolls on the pebble beaches, my espresso shots shared in smoky cafes, my frequent vespa rides. It was all over.
No one, including myself, had any real idea how long quarantine would last. Crying on my flight from Munich to Chicago, I was overcome with anger. I thought this would surely be over in a matter of weeks, and my time in Croatia was ruined for a meaningless trip back home. I had assumed normalcy would return sooner rather than later. We all assumed that, I think. My first few weeks in quarantine were marred by a bitterness at the world for snatching the best thing that had ever happened to me right from my desperate hands. My high school years were less-than-ideal, and I had finally found something that made me happy. Jump-over-the-moon, tears-of-joy happy. Through my travels I finally made real friends and started to love the person I was. My mental health improved drastically as I grew as a person and saw the world outside of my sleepy hometown. Coming back home took all of this away from me. I felt like I had something that I deserved robbed from me and replaced with lonely days trapped inside my childhood home.
Weeks turned into months and North Carolina’s hot, sticky summer rolled around. I couldn’t help but consider that I was supposed to spend June traipsing Spain with my at-the-time boyfriend, enjoying my final months before entering college at UNC Chapel Hill. As I worked my summer job, I found myself looking forward to going back to school. Surely, I thought, things will be better by then. I had planned out my dorm room with my roommate Ella, and I thought of college as a glimmer of hope. Of course, our plans rearranged themselves and we found ourselves living off-campus in a tiny yellow house. Living on my own was nothing new to me after spending a year abroad, but this time I had to balance living with online schoolwork and a new job. It was an overwhelming and uncomfortable way to be thrust into college when I still felt like a kid, desperately clinging to the person I was before this all happened.
The Autumn months were marked by days spent in our cramped yellow house, either staring at our computers or at each other. I couldn’t help but feel lost. In the grand scheme of my life, how did I end up here? It was nothing like what I had planned for myself, for my gap year, for starting college. In many ways I felt like a failure. My time abroad and my freshman year were supposed to offer me an escape from my time in high school, from the person I was then and the way I had felt. Instead, I found myself lost in the peeling paint of my walls, always reflecting on the girl that I was. So much had changed during the in-between, but I couldn’t help but still feel my sorrow. I had an idea in my head about the me I had wanted for this period in my life, and because of the pandemic, she never came to fruition. That seed never even had the chance to be planted.
Chapel Hill’s colder months melted into Spring, and I just recently passed the one-year mark since the day I flew home from Croatia. In many ways, it feels like an eternity ago, like a far-off dream that my foggy mind struggles to remember. In many ways, it feels like yesterday.
During the year I have spent in quarantine, so much has been taken away from me. It hurts me more than I care to admit. I have to remind myself, though, what I have gained through all of this. This time has allowed me to offer myself compassion for the person I was in the past and the pain I felt then. I grew close with my roommate Ella and finally feel like I have genuine friendships. I feel much more sure of myself and what I am doing. I have more of an appreciation for the little things in life, like sunshine or hugging the people I care about. I grew out my hair, started roller-skating, and even changed my major. During my year spent inside, I spent time learning to know and love the girl that I am. It’s been nice to finally come home to myself-- it's like putting on a well-worn sweater fresh out of the dryer.
This week I got my second dose of my vaccine, and by the end of April I will be fully vaccinated. I have spent the last year thinking about when it’s all over: what I’ll do, who I’ll see, where I’ll go. Now that we are nearing the end, I can’t help but miss the strangeness of my last year, the time spent with myself and my friends in isolation. I’ve kept a list throughout the pandemic of things I’d do when this all ends, so I thought I would share a few daydreams with you all:
Go see a movie in a movie theatre. Get popcorn with extra butter.
Go to a club with my college friends.
Host a little shindig in my apartment, complete with a home cooked meal and a charcuterie board.
Hug my friends without fear.
Go to a concert with my mom.
Drink coffee in a little cafe.
Kiss strangers.
Study in my college library.
This last year has taken so much from me, but I can’t help but thank these past few months for my newfound appreciation for life’s smallest moments. I won’t take any of it-- seeing my friends, waiting in concert lines, overly expensive coffees-- for granted after this ends. As we ride out the final months of the pandemic, I’m grateful for all I’ve gained and experienced in this phase of my life. I know that I’ll be a better person when it’s all over.
