by Ava Marseglia ’26
This last year has been surreal, but not like a dream; instead, an insidious gradual slide into an abyss. My alarm goes off at the normal time, but when my head clears, I remember that something isn’t normal. I am falling up!
I have to grab onto my bed before my feet lift off the floor. And then the day begins….
Did I do my homework, eat dinner the night before, remember to charge my phone?…. Oh, wait, my mask!
I am not even sure of the schedule but thankful I have one. With half your face hidden, eyes become a powerful beacon of connection. I know I am learning something, but without gravity, it is hard to focus. I have to remember to keep my feet firmly on the ground.
I touched a doorknob….. sanitizer, adjusted my mask….more sanitizer. My breath feels hot in my face, recycled carbon dioxide, and my feet start to float up again. Thankfully, I grab my chair this time and keep the illusion of normalcy up. Lunch is like eating inside a fishbowl, the mask is off but the gravity isn’t there. By the afternoon I have a love-hate relationship with my laptop and a pounding headache. We all feel it missing, the pull.
At home, my garage is like a big box store. The tennis rackets and lacrosse sticks are buried by unknown paper towels and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese boxes. We haven’t gone through all our stores of food yet, and we probably never will. A new variant is on the doorstep.
Isolation is something we all crave at times, a vacation somewhere remote to escape the chaos. I don’t need that anymore. I have had enough of remoteness, my legs and arms always floating up without my permission. The world needs GRAVITY.