I was in calculus class when they told us we wouldn’t be coming back for two more weeks. I was at home when those two weeks were over and they told us it would be another two weeks. And I was still home a whole year later watching my peers drive by to get their diplomas because two weeks was an asymptote, and graduation was a no-go.

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In the background, I also got the brilliant sound of my sister bragging about how by the time she graduates (she’s only a freshman) she’ll get everything I didn’t get. It’s so amazing, I think about changing her incredibly empathetic words to my ringtone. I would make them my alarm but there’s no point in setting any alarms anymore if I won’t have to get up for school.

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I’m a year and a half into the worldwide pandemic. COVID is a word everyone has come to know now. I never thought I’d see the day the word moist would get dethroned as the most taboo word in the dictionary.

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I guess I lied about the alarm part because I still have to get up, only I’m getting up to a computer designed to create pounding migraines so I can watch my teacher “teach” me on zoom. Which, by the way, I don’t know why it’s called zoom considering it doesn’t live up to its name; I can change my clothes five times by the time I get signed in to it.

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My favorite lecture was from my Earth Science class and that’s only because my professor couldn’t find a babysitter for her four-year-old daughter and we all got the entertainment of her kid taking over the slides and having live tantrums.

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I go to MSU, and even though my high school has UofM colors, blue and yellow/gold, I realize MSU is more like DeWitt than ever. DeWitt also made us promises it couldn’t keep. And I get keeping everyone safe, I think that’s a given, but did both schools really have to get my hopes up like they did? My high school told me I’d get graduation and prom, and what did I get instead? Hours of endless isolation and a birthday in quarantine because my mom got COVID the day of. She was fine, thank god.

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It’s not like I can hit a REDO button. Taken away from me were precious moments and memories that I will never get back. Prom happens once, and so does graduation, and so does senior skip day. I was finally connecting with so much more of my senior class and daring to dribble my ball out of bounds into the territory of cliques I wasn’t a part of, and boom, all potential friendships exploded in the water. My crush was going to ask me to prom, but I never saw or heard from him again. I know things happen for a reason, but does it still hold true that things don’thappen for a reason?

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I’m someone who isn’t diagnosed with depression but whose depression comes out seasonally, usually when converse turn into boots. COVID turned every season into boot weather.

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So this is where I’m at. I’m in my home 24/7 taking classes on a computer, and I don’t think I’ve seen actual sunlight. Bye-bye vitamin D and helloooo Rickets. It doesn’t help that I’m in Michigan. Isolation plus winter equals pity from other people who aren’t residents of Michigan.

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I will admit that pretty much every day of the pandemic has all meshed together and I can’t distinguish any of the days from one another, but today I know I’ll remember. And that’s because something actually happens today. I get a text from one of my friends from high school. She’s in my friend group, but I don’t know her all that well.

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SARA: I’m bored out of my mind. Seriously like I need to talk to a person right now. I’ve been talking to birds. BIRDS!

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ME: Sameee. I’m hearing that the grade below us gets prom this year. Like seriously? I know they’ll have to stay in little groups and wear masks, but why couldn’t we do that? I wish we at least had something.

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SARA: I know, right? I was thinking we could go on a spontaneous trip if you’re down? Since you’re mad at the school like I am, I think it’s something you’d be down for.

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ME: Name it.

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SARA: School parking lot. Dancing. It’s not technically trespassing.

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ME: Pick me up?

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She sends me a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. I’m starting to think maybe she really is a God because for a young adult in our generation to actually communicate within 3-5 business days alone is kind of a miracle.

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I immediately get up from my bed and start looking for something to wear. It’s been so long since I’ve changed out of my pajamas that when I put on sweatpants they don’t look baggy on me. I feel like I’ve been stuck inside a box with no breathing holes for ten years and I’ve finally escaped.

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I find a cute white sweater that I know my aunt would comment on because of how low-cut it is. Sometimes it’s fun to wear scandalous things just to piss off family. As I’m fixing my jean shorts and straightening my hair and looking in the mirror, I start to think about everything that could go wrong. It’s been so long, do I even know for sure that I still have a voice? Like an email that gets deleted after inactivity, is my voice gone?

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 Isolation and Interaction have switched roles; hint: Isolation is the demon.

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“Hey,” I shout, “So we’re definitely taking a video of our dancing, right?”

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“Do you even know me?” she jokes, “I have literally 1,000 photos on my phone, and more videos.” She shows me her camera roll as proof; all her pictures blur together.

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“Let’s do this!”

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The parking lot looks like the entire town has been evacuated and we didn’t get the memo. All the parking spots are empty, and the big rectangular building has no lights on; all the windows are dark. It doesn’t help that it’s a miserably cloudy day. “I was hoping a teacher would see us,” I giggle, “I’ve always been the goodie-two-shoes and I wanted to, ya know, break the rules a bit.”

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“There’s cameras around the school, I’m sure someone will see,” she replies.

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We park the car into a spot and rest Sara’s phone on the window. In the background, the huge American flag is waving. We stand in front of it and blast some music on from the car.

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We’re playing Taylor Swift because Sara knows it’s my weakness. We’re playing 22, pretending like it’s our 22nd birthdays even though we’re only 19. We do some twirls in the air. At one point, Sara kicks her shoes all the way across the lot and lets them fly. We get super close to the camera and make a bunch of silly faces; whoever said photos with tongues sticking out is so second grade LIED.

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I purposefully wait for the long note on the song, and when the long “yeah” arrives, I go for it even though I’ve never taken a single vocal class in my life. My voice cracks halfway, so it sounds like “Yeahhh-hhhh-hhhh,” plus I screech at the end. Even though Sara was blessed with the voice of an angel, she applauds me.

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I put my hands up and almost trip on my own two feet, and we both start cry-laughing.

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An hour goes by and we don’t even realize it. Eventually we get bored of the music, so we sit in the car for a while and talk. Even though we’ve technically been acquainted, we talk about things we’ve never talked about before.

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We talk politics peacefully, we talk about our families and who we’re close to and who we aren’t, and we talk about all that deep stuff people say not to discuss on a first date because it’s a red flag. But there’s simply some people that you’re able to open up to easily, and Sara is one of those people.

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We’re in the middle of talking about embarrassing moments, and I see red and blue lights. I immediately assume they’re coming to bust us, and without thinking, I chuck my body in the car through the driver’s side. My legs kick the steering wheel as I try to maneuver my way back to the passenger side, honking the car. If I didn’t look suspicious before, I definitely do now. I duck down in my seat, wondering why Sara isn’t coming in after me.

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“What are you doing?” she asks, laughing.

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“The police! Get in!”

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“They passed us Savannah. Lol they were getting someone for speeding. They were never coming after us.”

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I get out of the car again and feel a bump on my forehead. I must’ve hit it when I dived in the car.

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Sara snaps a picture of it, and I let her. I have a huge red lump on my forehead to remember this moment by.

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It’s all we talk about on the way back.

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We hang out every week after that, and I almost forget that I’ve been isolated like a lone ship out at sea.

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I hate to point out positives about the notorious year of 2020 and its aftermath, but I did walk out of it with a best friend for life.