I just finished re-reading Station Eleven because of course. It actually made me less stressed about the Corona craziness because it made me realize how much worse things could be. What’s happening is way, way less freaky than the Georgia flu.
I’m home from school and reliving my high school days with online classes, and all this is nothing what I thought 2020 or this semester would look like. I’m trying to process everything, as we all are, and this is the first thing I was able to put into words, this set of lists. More will come.
I do want to say, I realize that I’m coming from an incredibly privileged perspective. My dad still has a job; I still have a job (pros of working at a grocery store: it’s about the only thing open in a pandemic!). I have a safe, comfortable, loving home to hide out in and my own room. I’m not a senior, missing out on graduation, or an athlete, losing the chance of a lifetime. I’m not a single mom or homeless or at risk health-wise. I recognize all those things.
But I’m also realizing that that doesn’t invalidate my own experiences or disappointments, and that it’s no good to anybody if I’m not processing and staying emotionally healthy the way I need to. A quote on this from another recent read, Nowhere Boy:
People are always weighing their suffering against others’, not using it to form bonds.
So, in the interest of forming bonds, here are …
the things i miss
about new york
Waking up to the sight of skyscrapers catching the morning light
Standing on tiptoes to see the Statue of Liberty from my window
Getting ready in the morning with my roommates, each of us at our own desk
The feeling that you can go anywhere, hop on the subway and ride with a thousand strangers to a museum, a park, a coffee shop, some random street
Walking at my apartment steps with groceries and thinking, I live here!
Sitting in the front row of my science class with my roommate and her boyfriend
Standing in the back of my horrifically boring art history class and making despairing eye contact with my other roommate, who sits in the row in front of where I stand
Walking up Broadway in black heels
Making dinner whenever I feel like it
The decorations above my desk
Studying with friends, the shared stress of classes and inside jokes about professors
Knowing there’s always someone to watch a movie with
Being able to wear whatever you want, crazy or fancy, and nobody caring
The little market in Bowling Green where I buy apples and gluten-free bagels
Even those awkward, crowded, always-late elevators—I miss them
the things i like
about being home
Reading with my mom in the living room at night
My dad’s shoulder rubs
My mom’s “Wegmans texts,” checking how my day has been or asking me to pick up something for her
Being there for all the inside jokes and funny moments of my family
Saturday morning pancakes
Our adorable dog, who converted me from a devout pet-disliker to an only-this-pet-lover
Having my own room to escape into
Someone else making my dinner each night
The pond in our neighborhood, with its blossoming cherry trees, magnolias, crocuses, forsythia, and myriad other signs of spring
Listening to music or podcasts in the car while I drive to work
My little sisters asking how work was and inviting me into their worlds of stories and toys
Family Catan games
My brothers, just everything about them
Wood cabinets and carpets and a deck versus the sterile white boxy-ness of my apartment
The freedom of having “real” adults to pass off troubles to
All my books
Friendly neighbors
The yard, a patch of land that is our own (sort of—we rent)
Even the constraints of following the family routine and having to check my plans with others—even this, I like
A Glimpse of Starlight 
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