From Dinah’s Desk: The column where I, Dinah, usually at my desk, can put my thoughts on paper.
On this day, three years ago, I left the Main Building unaware that I would not return for six months. It marked the start of the longest period I had been away from Moorestown Friends since I started at three years old. I left with a large packet from my history teacher and an unconvincing, “We’ll be back next week, don’t worry,” which quickly devolved into an, “I don’t know when we’ll be back,” and then further still, a, “We aren’t returning.”
When life was so abruptly upended three years ago, very few could have imagined what lay ahead.
I was one of those early skeptics; I was not convinced that we would return to normalcy anytime soon. But even so, I clung onto false hope. I wistfully filled out the Google Form sent to eighth grade students which asked if the following dates would work for an outdoor graduation (I guess none did, as we never had a graduation). I sat and lamented over the events I had looked forward to for four years, and felt deeply for those who had more to miss than me.
On the past two COVID-versaries, as our newsroom likes to call them, I’ve been hit with a distinct wave of nostalgia. In an odd way, I’ve missed the precariousness of the early days of quarantine. Both years, I was moved by the acknowledgement of time within a period where time had lost its meaning. This year, though, it was just another day until the thought struck me mid-morning. And what truly struck me was that I found this day so easy to acknowledge.
Three years is certainly a significant portion of time. It is enough to grow, especially as children, in profound ways. And grow we did. I stand today in a school community whose makeup is incredibly different from what it was then. I stand today an incredibly different person than I was then. I stand today remembering the uncertainty, the fear, and the unprecedented nature of the time, yet not feeling it anymore.
On this COVID-versary, three years after the end of the world as we knew it, I am preparing to travel to England in a mere 10 days for Intensive Learning. I submitted my senior year course form. I rarely dwell upon life before the shutdown, though I used to. I am instead occupied with my present and future, back on track like a record that simply skipped a beat. Each day I return to the same bedroom where I spent my days of solitude, except this March 13, it feels a lot less lonely.
Featured image by Annie Spratt on Unsplash and free to use under the Unsplash License.
