Abstract

Hossain talks about her experience in the 2020-2021 COVID pandemic. She takes us through her journey of discovering her surroundings that she had ignored before. Read about her relationship with spring helping her with mental health as things become normal again.

The Piece: Remedy

I love spring. Every year I wait for it to come back after summer’s heat waves, autumn’s dread, and winter’s cold. During my freshman year of high school, I wanted to enjoy the later half of the year when my friends and I could do activities like going to the beach and visiting the park. I was ecstatic about the thought and I would always mention to my friends my desire for April to come quickly. Exactly a week before spring began, we had a break. That short break of virtual classes that was promised to us turned into a year long quarantine (specifically, 14 months until we all saw each other again). Before I knew about what was to come, I thought I just had to be patient and soon we would return to school. One of my friends missed the spring showers we get in mid-April. He would record the rain from the view from his window and send it to me. I started doing the same. In the past, we would send each other pictures of the sunrise and sunset but the pandemic brought us to appreciate the things that were deemed ‘normal’. The weather that felt unpleasant to us sometimes turned into an infatuation and longing to go outside, to feel the air and breathe in the smell of earth. At times this desperation caused me to do outlandish things. When my parents left to go grocery shopping, I stuck my feet out the window. I wanted to feel the light breeze that’s present during the transition from winter to spring. By the end of that long period of despair, we missed the revival of spring that year, and the year after. 

As a graduated senior, I did the things I promised to myself at 14. It became impossible for me to stay inside my house for too long; it would turn me crazy, or rather, scare me into thinking spring will leave and that I didn’t appreciate it enough. The things that I promised my friends back then, however, didn’t come true, or at least not all of them did. Some of my friends had moved away and it became difficult to spend time with them. But this year’s spring was still so memorable regardless. I discovered the bridge that connects the park next to my school to the riverside. Visiting the pier helped me relieve stress and sometimes, was the only solution that brought me to sanity. On a train ride home one day in May, I felt an epiphany. As I stared at the wide stream of water at Elder Avenue from the high elevation, the blue sky with just the right amount of clouds, the sun illuminating them, and remaining blossoms on revived trees, I started to think to myself. I survived the abnormal journey through high school as the class of ‘23. I survived my own personal struggles that once led me to isolate myself. I survived college applications. I’m grateful to be alive. 

Revision of the Piece

I love spring. Every year I wait for it to come back after summer’s heat waves, autumn’s dread, and winter’s cold. During my freshman year of high school, I wanted to enjoy the later half of the year when my friends and I could do activities like going to the beach and visiting the park. I was ecstatic about the thought and I would always mention to my friends my desire for April to come quickly. Exactly a week before spring began, we had a break. That short break of virtual classes that was promised to us turned into a year long quarantine (specifically, 14 months until we all saw each other again). Before I knew about what was to come, I thought I just had to be patient and soon we would return to school. One of my friends missed the spring showers we get in mid-April. Like many South Asian households, our parents were strict about going outside when almost all activities became virtual, so we were inside for the first few weeks. He would record the rain from the view from his window and send it to me. I started doing the same. In the past, we would send each other pictures of the sunrise and sunset but the pandemic brought us to appreciate the things that were deemed ‘normal’. The weather that felt unpleasant to us sometimes turned into an infatuation and longing to go outside, to feel the air and breathe in the smell of earth. At times this desperation caused me to do outlandish things. When my parents left to go grocery shopping, I stuck my feet out the window. I wanted to feel the light breeze that’s present during the transition from winter to spring. By the end of that long period of despair, we missed the revival of spring that year, and the year after. Things weren’t the same.

As a senior, I did the things I promised to myself at 14. It became impossible for me to stay inside my house for too long; it would turn me crazy, or rather, scare me into thinking spring will leave and that I didn’t appreciate it enough. The things that I promised my friends back then, however, didn’t come true, or at least not all of them did. Some of my friends had moved away and it became difficult to spend time with them. But this year’s spring was still so memorable regardless. It was a journey to healing and moving on post-quarantine. I discovered the bridge that connects the park next to my school to the riverside. Visiting the pier helped me relieve stress and sometimes, was the only solution that brought me to sanity. My connection to the common things we see on a daily basis: the blue sky with airplane traces, the swings at a park that make you feel like you’re flying on windy days, and the sound of rain made me become more aware of the nature that surrounds us. Appreciating it, whether with friends or by myself, was my remedy.

On a train ride home one day in May, I felt an epiphany. As I stared at the wide stream of water at Elder Avenue from the high elevation, the blue sky with just the right amount of clouds, the sun illuminating them, and remaining blossoms on revived trees, I started to think to myself. I survived the abnormal journey through high school as the class of ‘23. I survived my own personal struggles that once led me to isolate myself. I survived college applications. I’m grateful to be alive.