Brynna Hobart, a student in Professor Hu Ying's class "Fantastic Fictions" reflects on how pandemic living has taught her the value of "being present" in each moment of life.

(It's a picture of the sky on the last day that I was on UCI campus before quarantine. -- by Brynna Hobart)

To whoever finds this letter,

“I hope you're in good health.” It was weird that everyone started saying that when the pandemic began. I thought people sounded like a bunch of Jane Austen characters inquiring after everyone's family's health, but I got over it pretty quickly. I guess being a language science student, I picked up on a lot of the language people used. Or didn't use. 'Corona' and 'COVID-19' fell out of the common vernacular pretty fast; you only really heard them from news reports or stuck-up old people. Or maybe in memes. Most everyone I knew talked about the pandemic in a roundabout way. "Despite everything that's going on..." or "I was going to take a trip to Oregon until, you know..." and "Before this all started...". We didn't like to name it. It's not that the official words seem dirty or forbidden, I think we were all just tired of hearing about it. It's easier to not think about something that you don't have to name.

I'm a homebody, so I didn't really feel robbed by the pandemic. My college graduation was online, but I didn't really care. Other people had lost a lot more than me. My little sister's high school graduation was online, and she's a social butterfly, so she took it hard. My older sister's wedding was online. The immediate family was there, and we made it a beautiful backyard ceremony, but it was a far cry from what she'd wanted it to be. Her friends organized a drive-by parade with signs and streamers and cans tied to trucks. Some of them threw flowers and chocolates and gifts from the street to our front lawn, and I think that was one of the most striking gestures of human kindness I personally saw during the lockdown.  Of course, the losses of graduations and weddings aren't anything compared to loss of life.  Some people might ridicule us for mourning lost experiences when we are completely healthy, but I think that's a bad perspective. Any loss is worth grief, no matter how small.

I don't really know what I was trying to tell you in this letter. I have no great wisdom to impart, and no harrowing brush with the virus or death like other people had during the pandemic. All I can offer is a brief look at language and an anecdote about my sister. Neither of these are personal to me, but this pandemic didn't feel personal either. I felt depersonalized for most of it: chugging through my day, sleeping when my phone said it was time to, getting up after six to eight hours, eating when my dad cooked, watching lectures and turning in assignments in an attempt to stay abreast of my workload. I had just been diagnosed with inattentive ADHD in early March and online class was hell. But I made it through. I had to graduate, after all. I wish I had been more present in my own life for the several months I had to stay at home. Life goes on whether you take an active part in it or not. I went on autopilot and let it slip by for most of the pandemic. All those months seem like a blur, like they didn't really happen. I don't know what life will be like for you in the future but don't be like me. In whatever circumstance you find yourself in, be present. Make a purpose for yourself and chase after it. Tell your friends you love them. Give yourself grace when you slip up, and let yourself grieve your losses. Choose joy.

Stay safe and healthy,
Brynna