Even the bells at my high school seem to long for normalcy. I thought I imagined the familiar chime when I walked past the other day, and strangely enough, the sounds of a lost year persist. They ring announcing to no one when each class would have ended. They eerily echo through an empty school. Marking the things we’ve lost and the time we will never get back.

For the past two months, it’s felt like I’ve been missing out on my own life…

I too am nostalgic for normalcy. I find myself looking at old pictures and videos for hours every day. Looking back, it seems strange how close I stood to my friends in pictures, our arms wrapped around each other as we laughed, our faces stretched wide with big, goofy smiles. Instagram feeds are now full of throwback pictures and Twitter with its “remember whens.“ It seems bizarre that the reality that existed only a few weeks ago is a past to which we will never fully be able to return. There isn’t a word for this pandemic-induced nostalgia, but it is so real. 

I’m only a sophomore. I’m not overwhelmed with AP tests, not cheated out of the “freshman experience,” and not missing out on all those big, final moments of high school like prom and graduation. I’m not missing out on much, but I wish I could go back to the small moments, to the day-to-day, I wish I could go back to high school. 

I’m nostalgic for late-night smoothie runs with my best friend and driving around with nowhere and everywhere to go. I long for my first varsity lacrosse season and our first game on March 13th that we never got to play. I’d do anything to be back with my friends, joking and laughing about silly things that don’t seem that important anymore. Like everyone else, I’m missing all the things that ended so abruptly and all those memories that were supposed to be mine, but that I’ll never have the chance to experience. I’ve learned that it's okay to be sad. It’s okay for us to desperately long for what we had. Feeling those things unite us. 

I’ve learned the future is unknown, and that’s the scariest part. There are no right answers; no way to know when to go back to school, work, or when it’s the right time to be with friends again. We have no way to know how the economy will recover. Every choice feels like a shot in the dark. 
It’s impossible to sum up what I’ve learned in just 500 words. But I’ve learned life doesn’t always go the way you expect. I’ve learned it’s okay to reminisce and mourn for what we once had and knew. I’ve learned there are no right answers. I’ve learned to be resilient and embrace the lost opportunities so I not only endure, but thrive.