Her name is Marie. She was attending at the campus of Carnegie Mellon University, but due to the pandemic, she could not stay in the dorms and was sent home to attend to her classes virtually.  With the quarantine granting an immense amount of free time, the most obvious place to spend that extra time is on her laptop. The Internet is quite literally the connection to both old and new friends alike, and can be a place to hang out in times where it’s too dangerous to meet up in public spaces. 

Marie boots up her laptop and opens the app titled Final Fantasy XIV Online, an MMORPG (massively multiplayer online role-playing game) with thousands of active players. After logging in, Marie would no longer be a college student; she would become Xir the adventurer. She would explore a fantasy world filled with monsters and treasure with her companion by her side. Xir woke up inside the housing district to see an old friend, Ved, welcoming her back. 

The truth is, I am that old friend. I had been concerned about Marie because I knew that she was an only child, living again with her parents since the start of the pandemic. I wondered about her social life suddenly being cut off, but she seems to be doing fine.

“I think, compared to other friends who I only talk to, don’t really play with, we’re probably closer,” Marie said in reference to our friendship. “Also the people you talk to and don’t play with, you slowly stop talking to over time.”

Somebody may think that any game that we have in common could work as long as there was an online component to the game, but Final Fantasy XIV Online provided more than just the goal of fighting monsters together; there is a social aspect that could be replicated in real life. The avatars can express themselves through the use of the in-game chat and emotes. If I wanted to react to a joke, I could make my character physically laugh in-game, as if it actually happened in real life. 

After graduating from high school, we could never hang out just by seeing each other every day. Hanging out with friends online, even for just a few minutes, has been enjoyable since it replicates that time of just chatting about different topics. The extra time used to commute between classes can be used to hang out. “Normally, I would just not be doing this [playing games] in the middle of the day, I would just play on weekends,” Marie commented on her free time. “Now we can do it whenever, so we can kind of, in a way, hang out more than usual.”

It’s as easy as texting a message to see if someone was free to log in that specific time. There’s no need to plan the day out, no need to check which days are available for both parties, no need to prepare and travel. Of course, we miss hanging out in the real world, but virtual meet-ups are the next best thing, and it’s certainly better than not interacting with each other at all.

I played The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild for 180 hours.

Now it’s up to your interpretation whether that was an efficient use of my time (I did have a friend who played Animal Crossing for 300 hours), but I can’t say I felt depressed or distressed during the pandemic because I had this fake game that gave me real enjoyment. There’s something to be said for being able to lose yourself in these digital worlds constructed by code and how they can be a lot more relieving, entertaining, and alluring than what’s going on in the “real” world. I spent 180 hours in Zelda, but I spent even more playing so many other games. I did the math; during the pandemic in 2020, I played games for close to 800 hours.

But what was so addicting about Breath of the Wild to play it for 180 hours? It’s a game that takes place in a vast, open world. There are lush green forests, sweltering deserts, chilling snowy tundras, volcanoes where the air is burning, mountains to climb for stunning vistas, hidden villages flung far and few between, islands, caves, lakes, dungeons, and secrets scattered all over the land waiting to be uncovered. You can hunt wild animals, cook them over a fire, and eat it as a meal or make your own with the scraps of food you’ve collected on your journey. You can sneak up on a horse, tame it (if you’re lucky it doesn’t throw you off), and explore the land admiring the scenery at your leisure - or use your motorcycle! You can buy a house, help a construction worker with a dream of building a town, and buy or sell equipment and valuables from merchants on your travels. You can also take selfies, pictures of wildlife and plant life. There is so much to see and do with so many parallels to things you can see and do in real life.

I play video games to have great experiences and aside from all the wonderful things you can do in this game, in terms of sound it is very easy on the ears. You will hear many lovely piano keys contributing to a relaxing atmosphere. The ambience of tall grass rustling in the strong winds comes to mind. There is also the soft noise rain drops make when they touch the ground contrasted with the dangerous boom of thunder. I especially love the different sounds you hear when your footsteps walk over grass, water, sand, snow, and rock.

That being said, I didn’t play Breath of the Wild necessarily because I was in lockdown. It just so happened that when the world was turning upside down, this was one of the games I was playing at the time. So it is not as though Breath of the Wild was my response to the pandemic. But if I didn’t have a hobby to keep me busy like Breath of the Wild did during the pandemic, I imagine quarantine would have been a lot less fun.

Playing a video game is as enriching as an experience as reading a novel, watching a film, viewing a painting, listening to music. What separates video games from these other art forms is that games offer interactivity between you and the game. That interactivity is why someone can spend 180 hours and still feel compelled to get in those hours. 180 hours might sound like a ridiculous amount of time, but how many hours do you spend reading books, watching movies, playing sports, going to the gym?

The experiences and memories I have playing Breath of the Wild are experiences and memories I would wish upon my friends, family, classmates, professors, and even strangers. In the context of this pandemic, it is not over yet, but video games do make the pandemic a lot more bearable and fun. Who knows? If you dedicate some time to playing games, you might find a game that speaks to you the way this game spoke to me. And if you’re not sure where to start, you could do much worse than Zelda.

“If a man has no vices, he's in great danger of making vices out of his virtues, and there's a spectacle. We've all seen them: men who were monsters of philanthropy and women who were dragons of purity. ... No, no - nurse one vice in your bosom. Give it the attention it deserves and let your virtues spring up modestly around it.” - Thornton Wilder

I chose low-priced, high-calorie junk food. 

The pandemic, as we all know, had brought along its woes and all that, blah-blah, we were all pretty bored. More productive, forward-thinking people used their free time to get in shape, form business plans, renovate their home, build stronger relationships with their family, find new hustles and schemes, find ways to be of service of their community and the less fortunate. 

I, of course, did nothing of the sort.

What I did do was make weekly runs out to nearby grocery stores, donut shops, fast-food spots, and the like. I ate a lot. I tried all types of worldly cuisines, took my first steps into local bakeries and buffets, I even went to North Jersey to munch on apples and drink freshly-squeezed orange juice. But there were some things I just kept coming back to, man, things that had formed cravings in me that I never thought I had.

Hot Pockets. PopTarts. And a WHOOOLE lot of Sour Patches.

Over the course of the pandemic, I’d gained an insatiable urge for these small bites of sour, sugary delight. I’d pop a few in the morning, down a couple after lunch, and slide in a few more before bed. After a few months, I became an unconscious habit, and in the last few weeks, I’ve been realizing how much this candy had become such a deep fixture in my life.

During my brief, yet intense Hamilton phase, I’d be twirling around the room, whole-heartedly, yet quite terribly, rapping and singing, carefully picking out the red, cherry-flavored candies from the yellow/green bag and filling my palm, hopping around for twenty minutes before collapsing on the ground, rewarding myself with the soft, gooey, teeth-deteriorating treats. 

At night, Prince was the go-to, and for my Purple Rain and Lovesexy dancing sessions, I had a bag stashed away (mainly to conceal the urge) as it was specifically for the Sour Patch Crush Soda Fruit Mix, which contained within it (oh, what a gem…) purple Sour Patches. A perfectly fitting way to enjoy the Artist’s sultry, pop-rock anthems from the eighties (the sugar working double-time to both fuel me and exacerbate my insomnia).

I have to admit, I might’ve lied at the beginning of this piece. I did have another vice that kept nestled and nurtured deep within me...

YouTube.

The pandemic was the perfect time for YouTube. Millions of creators, also at home with nothing to do, would spend the day making memes, preaching polarized political opinions, and record and upload a megaton of late-night highway drives in the rain ASMR. It was an endless cavalcade of mindless entertainment, and what better way to wash all that down than with mass-produced garbage food. For my YouTube binging sessions, my Sour Patches sat besides a little guest: Hot Pockets. Pepperoni Pizza, Meatball and Sausage, Classic Cheese Burger, Philly Cheesesteak, you name it: I ate it.

Is reheated freezer meat a good matchup with gelatin and sugar? No. But since when have you cared about what you put in your body in the last 11 months? 

It is not the best way to tame your boredom, but staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell you’ve been putting in your body is much better than just staring out at your front lawn.

Unexpectedly, my hunt for Sour Patches at 7-Eleven had led me to another strange pandemic indulgence: Roald Dahl. While I was searching for a bag of Doritos to supplement the bag of Sour Patch Watermelon in my left hand, I walked along their freezer and came across fresh fruit.

Gross.

But what was interesting was seeing a peach. As I was checking out, the sight of the peach had urged me on to go home and pir-I mean, stream James and the Giant Peach, a beloved classic of my childhood. While in wonderment of the imagination on display (which I was ambivalent to when I was younger), I decided to finally pop open that dusty copy of My Uncle Oswald rotting away on my shelf.

And there it had begun. For the next few weeks, my hand to drift back and forth between a half-eaten bag of Extremez (yes, another brand of Sour Patch Kids) and a page of one of Roald Dahl’s many children’s books. Hours would drift by as I combed through one of Dahl’s classics, candy bags emptying themselves out faster than ever before. While I was rearranging my newly bought collection on my shelf, I was surprised (not at all, actually) to see the dust of loose sugar decorating their spines.

Alas, I must say, all good things must come to an end. A few months ago I realized that it was in my better judgment to not eat this candy all day, it’s high in sugar, it’s bad for my body, and it’s quite the budget-spender (in large doses). But damn did it taste good.

Here’s a gif of what I also did when I was bored mid-pandemic (feat. My PopTart Addiction), thanks for eating!

The pandemic has made conditions worse for homeless people like John. Because they lack access to housing and health care they are at a higher risk of infection from COVID. I decided to interview John to get a firsthand perspective on how the pandemic has impacted John and other homeless people in Newark.  I use the name John Taylor to protect his identity and respect his privacy. To visualize John’s world, I photographed the homeless community that gathers around Newark Penn Station—a place where John lives from time to time. To maintain the anonymity of the people I photographed I transformed the images into sketches using Escher and Color Ink drawing software. In addition to protecting their anonymity, I hoped that these sketches would make a viewer look more closely at people we so often ignore. This post is a tribute to all the John Taylors who suffer from the plight of homelessness and invisibility. 

I would be remiss not to add that while the pandemic has only increased the challenges John faces every day, he remains hopeful that things will eventually get better, not only for him but for the entire homeless community.

Nice to meet you. My Name is John…

My name is John Taylor. I am in my late 40s, I have no kids, and I am a veteran who served in Afghanistan. I am also homeless. I have been living on the streets for over ten years now. 

Homelessness was never what I imagined my life would be like. I assumed my country would be there for me after years spent fighting for them in a foreign land, that they would give me a new life, a place to live, a job. You name it. However, after the war, there was little opportunity for me when I came back home. I couldn’t find work. Zero jobs led to no money for rent.  This forced me to live in and out of shelters, on the streets of Newark, and the benches of Newark Penn Station. 

There are also many health risks that I encounter as a result of this pandemic. Because I lack access to health care, shelter, and other essentials, I unfortunately have a lower life expectancy compared to the average person. Those with pre-existing illnesses face COVID-19’s most severe consequences and higher risks of grave complications. I am living proof of this. For three weeks, I was in the hospital being treated for the virus. I didn’t think I was going to make it. I couldn’t catch my breath at times and it was exhausting to even walk. I already suffer from chronic back pain and have lost the ability to get around on my own without a walker. I have lost feeling in my hands. I also have a compromised immune system after years of living on the streets with very little access to health care. It is hard to get by, but I do the best that I can. However, I am at a higher risk of more chronic health conditions should I get infected with the virus again. 

Homeless services have not kept pace with the rising number of people who need them. For someone like me, these places help me get by. They are my life support. However, because of the pandemic, many of the shelters I go to distribute provisions to more people than ever before. This is largely due to the fact that many people were either laid off or evicted because of the economic downturn that occurred in the midst of the pandemic. Consequently, facilities like the Pierre Toussaint Food Pantry that were serving 60-80 people/day before the pandemic are now  serving over 200 people/day. I used to wait on line for half an hour to get the things I need. These days I wait in line for three hours. Some days the supply of essential food and clothing resources run out before I reach the front of the line. I have gone for several days without food rations and toiletry products like toothpaste or toilet paper. I can’t afford to buy myself masks to stay safe. Although some people are kind enough to give me some money, it still gets harder to fend for myself in such dire circumstances.   

The decline in homeless services has forced some food pantries to stop allowing us to select our own food or have a choice in the items we need to sustain our wellbeing. There have been days where I had to give away or throw out the food I had been given because I was allergic to it. Clean clothes and warm jackets and gloves were in short supply last winter. Most of these homeless services are not at fault. I know that many of these facilities try their very hardest to help me in the midst of these trying times. I am eternally grateful for the fact that I was able to receive a bag of groceries as it truly helped me at the height of the pandemic. The main predicament is that the pandemic has limited these services. There is also no guarantee that they will continue to provide me with the essentials that will meet my health and/or personal needs amidst these tumultuous times. 

It is unfortunate to say, but as the pandemic continues to rage the suffering and plight of those of us who live on the streets continues to worsen. Despite often feeling ignored and invisible, I continue to be grateful to be alive. 

I would like to preface this video by saying that I too am a Christian and I hold the Bible in the highest regard. For quite some time I have remained quiet on the subject, but as we enter into our second year of this pandemic I have a few things to say about the Black Lives Matter protests, the Covid Vaccine, and just generally how Christians have been dealing with this pandemic. If you're not a Christian you can click out of this video but if you call yourself a Christian, especially an Evangelical, I urge you to stay. 

Dear Christians, the fact that you cannot gather at 100% capacity in your churches is not persecution. When Jesus died on the cross for you, that was persecution. All the people in other countries who cannot gather publicly at church at all because they could be killed because it's against the law, that's persecution. Do not compare yourself to those other countries where it is illegal to gather. That is not because of COVID, that is because they do not have 1st amendment rights. 

Dear Christians, wear your mask, over your nose. It is not being “fearful” because you are abiding by the law. God gave us wisdom to do what is right not so we cannot be stupid and use his words out of context. You cannot keep citing the scripture “God has not given us a spirit of fear but of peace and a sound mind” while ignoring how Romans 13 tells us to obey the government. Philippians 2: 3-4 says “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” So, love thy neighbor, wear your mask, and get vaccinated. 

Speaking of the vaccination. Dear Christians, get the Covid Vaccine. It is not the mark of the beast. Just the same way that easy pass was never the mark of the beast. Also, reminder once again, it's not persecution if you're not allowed to do things or go places because you're not vaccinated. And it's also not a sign of the end times. 

Dear Christians, who kept insisting on saying all lives matter during times of extreme tragedy after the murders of black people like George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. When somebody says black lives matter it is in no way saying that any other lives do not matter. White lives do not need to be validated; they have been validated for the beginning of time. White Christians, once again, stop trying to act like you're being persecuted. Be like Jesus. Jesus would have been at the Black Lives Matter protests. Stop just being religious people and love others radically like Jesus did on Earth. Jesus was literally killed by the religious people of that time for that reason. Oh, and by the way just a reminder that Jesus was not white and he was also not wealthy and this Bible that you read has zero white people in it.

Dear Christians if critical race theory threatens your Christianity you may be worshiping whiteness. Your refusal to acknowledge the damage that the church has contributed in many ways to racism is not bringing people to Christ it is only deterring people from Him. 

Dear Christians, please learn the real definition of Marxism. Not everything is a Marxist ideology. Idk maybe actually read the Communist Manifesto. Also, I don't know why this is so hard to understand but you do not need to be a Republican and be a Christian. If Jesus was on this Earth right now, he would not prescribe to any political party but the reality is if Jesus was alive right now he probably would not be a right winger. Your blind loyalty to the Republican party is scary. 

Dear MAGA Christians, the election was not fraud. Just like you kept saying that we needed to respect and honor our president when former president Donald Trump was in office is the same thing that you need to do right now under the Biden administration. Keep that same energy and stop trying to be Facebook Warriors on the internet. Think about how your behavior is glorifying God because the answer is making fun of President Biden because you think he has dementia is not it.

Dear Christians stop saying that cancel culture is so toxic and that it is so sad that you cannot have a different opinion than somebody else without them cancelling you while seemingly cancelling everyone in the world who does not agree with you. Maybe you're the toxic one. 

And finally Dear Christians please start acting a little more Christian. Above all we are meant to love people unconditionally the way that Jesus did when he was on earth and the way that God loves us despite all the mistakes that we made continuously. You are not above anybody else you are not above approach. How are we supposed to be a witness to other people and show them who God is when we don't even act like him. Galatians 6 says “if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness.” As Christians we're meant to make each other accountable. 

I could go on and on and on but I don't want to get too crazy for our first episode here. So, for now, shout out to all my fellow radicals who believe that Christians need to do better. I’m Michaela Skelley and you just listened to our first episode of Dear Christians. I'll talk to you next week and hopefully by then you all have more of your lives together. Bye.

Clouds slid across the sun and a shadow fell over the apartment as the intruder stood on the chests of two middle-aged adults. The siblings stood in horror as everything they knew and loved was about to be taken from them. The family had prepared for a home invasion but their precautions had not stopped the invader. The following is an eyewitness account.

They were a family of four: a mother, a father, and two adult siblings, a brother and a sister. In early March, there was news that an intruder had been invading other homes in the neighborhood, and the family was not about to take the news lightly. It is better to take on the initiative and be over-prepared than under-prepared. Whenever the family would leave the house, the doors would be locked shut, they would wear masks and gloves, and they would disinfect packages to prevent anything from entering the apartment. But most importantly, the family followed the golden rule: they stayed at home as much as possible, using conference calls for work and school, and only leaving to buy groceries and other necessities.

However, the mother was an exception to the rule. 

A certain corporation knew of the risks of a home invasion, yet they still required the mother to be present in the office at least twice a week. She would return home, wearing a mask and disinfecting her body and clothes as soon as possible every week without fail. The daily routine has been set for the whole family. This was exactly the opportunity that the invader was looking for. 

How did the intruder slip past their defenses? They grew complacent as the months went by, using less hand sanitizers, disinfecting less clothes the moment they arrived home. Unwillingly, a backdoor revealed itself for intruders to take the opportunity and they invited themselves in. 

October 2020. The mother arrived home as usual and locked the door behind her. A shadow slipped past the door cracks. It was too dark to see the intruder’s face, and nobody in the household noticed the invasion in the beginning. But the intruder had already caught the mother by the throat, dagger threatening to cut off her supply of oxygen, counting down the two weeks to reveal itself to her. At first she had symptoms of the common cold, only coughing and sneezing. “She’s sick, so eat and stay in your rooms for now,” the father commanded the siblings. But the siblings did not take his words seriously because the mother was “just sick.”

As the days went by, this intruder slowly had their clutches on the entire family. They pinned down the mother to the sofa by the living room. She was unable to move, unable to breathe, and unable to sleep. Her eyes looked so black and tired, as if she had seen darkness itself. Soon enough, the intruder would also pin down the father just as hard. The intruder’s true objective of taking away the oxygen of the middle-aged adults was finally complete; perhaps taking their lives would have been the icing on the cake. The two siblings were spared their oxygen, but instead the intruder stole their senses of smell and taste overnight.

Thanksgiving weekend was not as thankful. There was no extravagant food prepared nor the joy of bringing family together. Hostages in their own home, the family felt miserable while the intruder lived like a king wearing a crown, eating away the family bit-by-bit.

The next day, the mother went to the hospital to get tested, but she never came back from the visit – she was hospitalized, with no clear indication of recovery. The intruder was not done with their fun, however, as they decided to focus entirely on the father next. Occasionally, the daughter would see the father pinned down by the invader and she would always initiate the same conversation: “Dad, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. I just need to rest,” he would reply, then immediately go to sleep on the couch. His chest would inflate and deflate like a pump at abnormal speeds. He’s a terrible liar. The daughter begged to call 91, but her father refused. The intruder continued to sip the oxygen through a straw while the siblings were unable to do anything about it.

On the first Friday of December, the brother and sister decided to monitor the father’s condition overnight. They would take turns resting while the other watches every hour. The daughter could not bear the thought of losing her father to this interloper, this intruder. Tears and fog formed and clogged up the vision of her glasses. I needed to get rid of these intruders and protect my home, she thought.

A faint whisper came out. “...Are you crying?” 

It was the father. He had woken up by her whimpers. 

“Yeah,” she paused. “I’m scared.” 

The father gestured towards a cell phone. She pressed three numbers on it and spoke with the operator on the other side.

The intruder has left the household for now, but their crimes left massive aftereffects to the family’s health. Two months later, the mother and father returned home from their hospitalizations. The mother has recovered completely, while the father needs the support of an oxygen concentrator to stabilize his oxygen levels. The son’s and daughter’s sense of smell is completely changed and greatly affects the way they enjoy food.

The intruder can be found everywhere, invading other houses in other towns and cities. They cannot be captured by normal means. The family redoubled their efforts to protect themselves from another invasion and take extra precautions by wearing masks both outside and inside the apartment. They will continue to do so until a cure would capture all invisible intruders from all households. 

Half a year has passed since the intruder entered the home. The father has healed completely from his battle against the intruder. News spread that vaccines were widely available for the town and the family had no doubt in their decision to take it. Feeling a bit sore from the aftereffects, it was way better than the actual experience they felt so long ago. Something entered the house once again. A shadow of its former self, this intruder was way weaker than its predecessors, and in no time, the family triumphed over it.  

The clouds parted, the skies clear. The sun was shining brightly through the living room, leaving no trace of shadows.

One of the first things that Nia emphasized about her life during the pandemic is that her mental health was severely impacted by the trauma of death. An outsider would assume that dealing with death is a typical responsibility of a healthcare worker; however, death in the quantity COVID brought caused tremendous changes to occur in the hospital. Nia was furloughed at the beginning of the pandemic and then brought back to conduct different duties within the hospital without receiving prior training. Her employer required the staff to come into work regardless of their personal situations. At one point, Nia was a full-time student while clocking more than 40 hours per week at the hospital with no days off. She told me that her supervisor also required staff who tested positive for COVID to continue working in order to maintain their job.

Nia shares about her suicidal thoughts

She moved out of her family home and moved in with her boyfriend, which gave her a sense of relief from worrying whether she would contaminate her family. Even so, she now feared infecting her boyfriend and Nugget. Nia is very meticulous about her uniform and leaving the house. She wears several layers of clothing and protective accessories to avoid contamination in her new apartment. She started appreciating the small things in life, and her relationship with her family strengthened after moving out. She constantly told her parents that she loved them because she feared that she might never get the chance to say it again.

One day, as she was clearing out a conference room at the hospital to make into a COVID unit, she heard a code blue, but the sound that signaled another patient in distress had become mere background noise by that point. She told me she didn’t learn until later that she had just lost a close work friend at that moment. 

Losing a coworker

Using drugs to cope with pandemic stress

Reacting to the trucks that stored the bodies of COVID victims

She told me that many nurses were using drugs during the pandemic to help alleviate their stress and anxiety on the job, and that she smoked marijuana for the same reason. She also slept whenever she could to forget the nightmares that she witnessed during her waking hours. The sight of the trucks that picked up the corpses of COVID victims shook her deeply. After hearing this, I was also haunted by the image of human bodies being treated like cargo.

Now, Nia has returned to her pre-pandemic job and is no longer working with COVID patients.

The circumstances of the pandemic haven’t exactly hampered my ability (or lack thereof) to intervene in Ethiopia’s Civil War and the escalating African Horn conflict, rather, they’ve peeled back my eyelids, blasted Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, and forced me to watch it. With nothing better to occupy my mind with than the glowing screens all over my house, I’ve been sucked into an antsy, idle, and anxious position: watching and reading the news, racking my mind over the absurdities and injustices being committed all around the world, and then waiting and waiting until the next big headline.

All of this came to crude realization: this is entertainment. Watching the news is no different than browsing Hulu or YouTube. I’m sitting here, craving images and controversies to keep myself engaged in this bubble. And, as trends remained consistent, it all started to bore me. Like the seventh season of a sitcom, I’ve been becoming increasingly numb to “500…” “1000…” “3000…” “5000 new cases of coronavirus reported in x-Republican-state.” It just started to become white noise.

At this point, all of it is to be expected, and since there’s so much to care about, it’s just hard to care about anything. Media, as we all know, is a double-edged sword: it has connected the world and is a valuable source of information, but only in small doses. It’s easy to see why the pandemic has made people so miserable; it feels like we’re constantly drowning in this pool of information, and we’re so busy trying to keep ourselves afloat that there is nothing really to latch onto.

So how to cope with all this? Personally, I just turned the TV off. It’s important to stay informed, to be up in the now, but a part of me also knows that it’s important to disconnect sometimes. You don’t have to go on a woodland retreat, either. I was able to find a bit of solace in reading a couple of old books I used to enjoy, doing a bit of cooking and cleaning, painting and drawing, just to give my mind a break.

It’s important to care about what’s going on in the world, but it’s just as important to keep your mind clear and sorted so that you can devote yourself to what you truly care about. What I discovered by limiting my intake of daily events was my filter, keeping my mind active and engaged with what matters most to me, like all of the big steps being taken in the name of social justice, climate change, economic reform, rather than driving myself crazy over another random pandemic panic buy or experimental mosquitos in South Florida. I guess no one can really ignore the apocalypse, but I’m not going to blame anyone for tuning out every once in a while.

In the Niger-Delta region of Nigeria called Sapele, Igho Ekakitie’s mother told him that “Education is the key to breaking the glass ceiling of poverty.” For Igho, his dream of pursing higher education was what he and his late mother shared. After high school, he volunteered for six years and raised enough funds to travel to the United States to pursue his college education. He obtained a student visa and flew to Boston, taking a bus to New York City from there.

Once he reached the city, Igho realized that his wallet, and the thousands of dollars he had carried inside it, were missing. Within the first 24 hours of reaching the United States, most of his hard-earned money was gone. With the little money he had stored in his luggage, he took a bus to Springfield, Missouri. Some of his fellow passengers pitched in to help him get a hotel room. A local church, the Redeemed Christian Church of God, helped provide for his needs for four months so he didn’t have to worry about finances.

Igho had chosen to attend Ozark Technical Community College (OTC) due to its affordability. Prior to attending OTC, Igho had no idea whether Missouri was a blue or red state, or that he would be one of very few African students at his community college. Fortunately he met a fellow African student who showed him around and told him about different leadership opportunities, communities, and resources. 

From there, Igho soared! During his time at OTC, he joined Phi Theta Kappa (PTK), the International Honor Society for 2-year schools and community colleges. His involvement there led him to run for and win the office of Regional Vice President for the Missouri region. Service was his focus in Phi Theta Kappa, and he made sure that members from all chapters in the region were engaged and that induction ceremonies were a time to celebrate new members of the Honor Society. He was also an International President Finalist candidate for PTK, the highest position a student can serve in the society, campaigning and delivering a speech in front of more than 5,000 people.

For Igho, PTK was a stepping stone to greater heights. Though there had been a time when he had worried about not having the money to pay for school or living expenses, he never let his struggles overcome him. As a leader, he knew he must continue to make things happen, so he learned to negotiate and be present when making decisions. As a scholar, Igho knew that sharing his story and articulating his needs was crucial for his path to success.

After graduating from OTC, Igho transferred to Webster University in Webster Grovers, Mississippi. There he pursued a Bachelor of Arts in International Relations & Affairs, fully funded and working as a Research Assistant.

Right before the COVID-19 pandemic, Igho was in Alabama speaking to a crowd of students, never realizing what was to come.

Thankfully, he had a support system within Webster and was able to work from home. 

Igho’s ambition was always to help others and to be a voice for the voiceless. Regardless of the chaos that was happening during the pandemic, “There is still humanity in the world.”

As a human rights activist, he went on and served as a Delegate at United Nations Youth Assembly. Through this experience, he realized his love for politics and global sustainability. Two interests began to flourish during the pandemic; his love for anime and his desire to create a podcast. 

Although his many friends encouraged him to write a book about his experiences, Igho thought that he could record his story and hopefully inspire people through a podcast. He wants others to know that taking challenges and risks in life is how you grow.

Igho launched his podcast with an episode in which he shared his own story. The episode did surprisingly well, and the podcast became a platform for sharing the stories of international students from all walks of life.

“Americans don’t know the struggles that international students go through to get an education in the United States, especially those who are here right now.”

In this way, he hopes that their voices can be heard and that audiences can learn about these stories while also inspiring prospective international students to take those steps to get an education. Igho made it clear that it’s not all “roses.” He plans to use his podcast to share the challenges that international students face, as well, and to explain how they surmounted those obstacles.

After more than a year since the pandemic started, Igho is energized to continue his career path. COVID-19 did not stop him from pursing his goals; he saw it as an obstacle and an opportunity to learn.

Being far away from his home country in Nigeria, Igho stated that the thing he misses most is his family, the collective community, the weather, and most importantly, the food! 

Igho’s message is clear: The road to greatness is not always smooth. Never give in to fear and let the challenges be your teacher. Keep a positive mindset and always keep working towards those goals because remember, “Education is the key to breaking the glass ceiling of poverty.”

To hear more about his personal story, be sure to listen to the premiere podcast, where he goes into detail about his journey as an international student. 

Angel is a sample based artist, drawing on inspiration from artists through generations and utilizing their sounds and emotions within his own work. At a moment in time where so many of us are socially starved and coping with isolation, Angel has used sampling as both a creative outlet and an opportunity to connect with people and channel various moments in time.

Angel’s production takes us through curiosity, love, joy, and sorrow. The atmosphere that his work creates can be chaotic, mirroring life through a pandemic. In many ways, the sonic worlds that Angel has built through his work are reflective of a more collective desire to escape into new realities and modes of expression.

The body is a KINGDOM.
The body is a dominion ruled over by your BENEVOLENCE or MALICE
LOVE is gonna get you killed.
PRIDE does what it will.
I'm taking big steps away from FEAR.
Jazz is in the air and in here.
I'm laughing. Not at myself no longer.
Not at my PAIN no longer.
To understand you had to be there. But I can tell you I’m a person.
Seedling making greenery his surroundings!
PASSION from POISON makes oceans and its me at sea!
Me, ANGEL.
Me, Still in disbelief!

Maybe your vision decayed by sights of today.
I might take your life while I fight grief, fight strife, fight me.
These chains make for heavy training.
Succumb as a slave to be damned with the rest.
Walls can’t kill you. Homes do.

– Angel Suero for his song “e(MOTION)”

Angel’s platform of choice thus far has been Instagram, as he runs the risk of copyright infringement on other music sharing platforms due to the nature of his work. Often, he will pair his music with prose that highlights his inspiration or emotions. He uses his music and his writings as a way to amplify his own voice, particularly in moments like the pandemic where he was forced into silence.

Sampling is a form of expression and art that can be found in so many different places; in the sounds we hear, the images we see, and in our jumbled up thoughts in moments where we have been forced to look inwards and the outdoors is no longer an option. When we sample various points of emotion and experience, what we are left with is a truly raw and vulnerable montage of the human condition.

It was August, and in the midst of a serious cookie craving, I found myself and a few friends headed on a late-night train to New York Penn Station. Touching ground at Madison Square Garden, I was in awe at the sights (or lack thereof) lurking the dreary streets of Manhattan. With citywide ‘For Lease’ and ‘Store Closed’ signs, we’d felt an overpowering sense of relief seeing the glow of the lights from the Insomnia Cookies storefront. By the time we’d looped back around to Penn, we’d seen more rats than people. At home, decimating a small box of oatmeal raisins, I’d figured I’d do a little research, maybe the numbers painted a more hopeful picture?

But it was just as bad as it looked. Executive orders that forced the closings on “nonessential” businesses ended up eradicating about 2800 businesses across the city. Restaurants, bookstores, theaters, entire industries laid to waste in a matter of months. Concerts were canceled, sporting events were put on hold, and indoor dining restrictions kept the city’s vital hospitality industry on the verge of disappearing. Summer passed as the city closed in on a devastating winter.

Now, after a year of quarantines, social distancing, new health guidelines, and COVID-related restrictions, the new world we are heading towards is becoming clearer. Ask yourself, when was the last time you forgot to wear your mask? How about counting the number of hand sanitizer dispensers on the walls in your local grocery market? Have you heard of this new thing called Zoom?

In the midst of another shameless cookie craving, I decide it’s time to check in on the city and grab my camera, hop on the train, and, taking my first steps out of Penn Station, wonder if my eyes are deceiving me.

New York City, the once-epicenter of America’s COVID crisis, has transitioned from a desolate ghost town to a medical-themed Halloween party: the streets fully repopulated with street musicians, hot dog stands, and woefully underdressed midday joggers. Barring face-masks and health-guideline posters, things feel almost...normal. How can this be? How did the endless COVID restrictions and the boundless energy of the city reach this equilibrium? 

Well, no use dwelling on that, it’s time to get some cookies.

Taking a hard right onto 8th Avenue, I am bombarded with the usual lights and screens. On one screen at the side of Madison Square Garden, New York Knicks forward Julius Randal is being congratulated for his NBA All-Star nomination. Looking around, Madison Square Garden is surrounded by street-vendors proudly waving around Knicks merchandise, and strangely, people are buying. The front door to MSG hadn’t been boarded up and webbed with Caution tape as I’d expected to see – in fact, it looked wide open for business. And, in fact, under strictly enforced social-distancing policies, a live Knicks game is an $80 ticket away. With lifted restrictions from Governor Andrew Cuomo, venues and arenas with capacity over 10,000 will be permitted to reopen at 10% of normal capacity. So the sporting life in the city may be wheezing, but at least now it's breathing.

I make my way into the subway and hop onto the 1 Train headed downtown, saving myself a treacherous hike in the February chill. I ride for two stops before suddenly hearing: “66th Street, Lincoln Center.”

And just like that, I’d accidentally sent myself uptown by about 32 blocks. I leap off of the train, scurrying up the stairs to get back out onto the road. I look across the street to see the subway entrance, rushing to get myself back on course, but I suddenly stop. I hear...music? Not some street-corner saxophonist – I hear falsettos, modes, and whistles... an opera singer? It can’t be; I don’t hear the muffled sound of a medical mask or the feedback of a face shield. I walk a few blocks to follow the sound and the sight astonishes me. 

Surrounded by a crowd of onlookers and sitting behind a window, a pianist and a singer are serenading locals as if it were an opera house concert. Looking above them I see text painted on the glass: Musical Storefronts. Kaufman Music Center, in another effort to establish the city’s new normal, has brought live music back to the ears of New Yorkers through these pop-up concerts. From professional musicians to talents behind some of Broadway’s biggest hits, New York’s finest now have a chance to glean a bit of glory that was first rescinded with the waves of canceled concerts and shuttered venues. This seems like a good way for the city’s thespians to scratch that high-art itch, at least until May 30th of this year, when Broadway is sure to make a major comeback. Judging from the happy and intrigued faces all looking intently towards the glass, the onlookers seem to forget for a moment the blank box office next door or the closed coffee shop across the street.

Hungry and cookieless, I follow the warm, wafting aromas down the street on Columbus Avenue. Turning the corner, I’m greeted by the sight of a small wooden structure parked at the side of the road, wide as a car and long as a bus, tightly lodged between a designer mask kiosk and a plastic-shielded flower stand. I look around to see these structures are everywhere, obstructing the road, all unique and color-coated. Peering into their open windows I see Christmas lights lining the ceiling, small groups of people packed around small tables...eating? It turns out that these little stands aren’t just taking up what little parking Manhattan has to spare. Established to combat the limited indoor-dining restrictions, the city has instituted the Open Restaurants Program. Restaurants with adequate curb-space are allowed to open up these small structures to serve more customers at a time, giving a hand to over ten-thousand restaurants all over the city. After inquiring a bit further with some of Columbus’s resident restaurateurs, all of these stands are able to stay up with loosened restrictions on capacity. Designed by the restaurant owners themselves, they are constructed to shield customers from inclement weather year-round, the city even allowing the use of electronic heating to keep diners warm during the winter months. With these structures soon to become permanent installations, you can be sure to expect these to become natural sites on cramped avenues, forlorn drivers no longer seething over the loss of a potential parking spot.

Alas, I cannot afford to take up a table in these cozy little cocoons, as Manhattan is the only place in America where $10 is a steal for a burger. I stalk down a few more blocks and swing by a Nathan’s, thankful that I don’t need to pinch my nose at the sight of hot horse manure. Chomping down an overly-expensive hot dog, I take a glance over to Central Park. With the sun out, reliving a bit of that February chill, people are out and about, gleaming with high spirits. So, after slathering my hands with the city’s self-produced over-abundant discounted totally-cruelty-free hand-sanitizer, I take a walk through the slushy downpour of the dying winter. Once again, I hear music, but it seems to be resonating from all over the park. Passing by a saxophone, I see no open case filled with spare change and crumpled dollar bills, but a small plastic sign with a barcode on it, several bystanders walking by and leaving their tips with a couple of screen taps. Walking towards the barren amphitheater, huddled together in a small circle, lounging on beach chairs and sipping on cans of light beer, playing terrible indie music on a small stereo (glad some things never change). Walking out of the park, I am sent off with the clopping sounds of horses, a barrage of dog barks, and the sounds of dozens of daytime joggers, basking in the golden sunlight. The sight would seem almost normal barring all of the gloves, masks, and face-shields, but I guess this is the normal now, isn’t it?

Reverting my course, I head down a flight of stairs into the subway stationed under Trump Tower (didn’t expect to see that name again so soon). I wave hello to a costumed-man, who kindly wipes the turnstile for me as I slip onto the train platform. Riding back downtown is relatively uneventful, my eyes wandering from gloved bar-handle holders to MTA ads alerting riders of some citywide health crisis (you don’t say?). The subway brings me back to Penn Station, where I stand in a (surprisingly) spaced-out crowd, awaiting the next train back to Jersey. As time goes on, certain sights start to blend into the background. All of the surprises I got today coming off of the train, well, that just might be how things are for another couple of years. Things change, but people adapt, no matter the circumstance, and while I’m glad for that, I’m also very upset I didn’t get my cookies, man.

This pandemic keeping us separated

I ain’t see y'all in a damn minute

I hoped to see y’all sooner,

But the prediction of this intervention was a damn figment 

We ain’t talk in a bit.

Sadly life has been hittin’

And it kept diggin’ with a

Planted foot with a grand pivot

Like the pandemic’s hands are different

Leaving marks, 

Each scar having a backstory 

Handwritten 

I always say life is a bitch

But it managed to turn me into its damn vixen.

I ain’t see my baby in a while

like I lost a custody battle 

No domestic visits.

In the first week I lost somebody

Jelani

Still hasn’t adjusted in my mind

I saw him 5 days before he died 

We saw each other, caught up, saying hi

Like Lil cousin I ain’t see in a long time

Jelani off the back seemed fine

But depression knows how to put on a mean disguise

Until the damage is done

Come to find out he committed suicide

In tears, crying.

I understood life put you in a position of do or die 

I didn't think it would be our last but

I was just happy that my last words were i love you

And goodbye.

I was with my partner.

I had to keep it real with them,

I said, “bae, 

I don’t know how imma get through this alone.

I’m keeping a grasp on life,

I’m losing my touch and

It’s hard for me to hold.

Depression got me unsteady

I already smell the fear of being alone

I’m losing hope already.

I can see my name,

Sunrise and sunset

In stone.”

Bae said

“You’re not alone,

Don’t act like I ain’t with ya,

If getting through this

is hard for you to envision,

You better paint the picture.

I need you to be my light

And I’ll be yours

Through the dark of devastation

This might be a long journey,

You are the pinpoint

Of my destination.”

We Quarantined 

Stay that ass in the house, 

keep ya distance 

I know it’s harder than it seems.

But it’s the least we could do, 

we need to fix this.

Do you see the amounts of people contracting this?

It’s hard to miss it,

Playing spades with a bad deck,

Meaning this is hard to deal with.

6 feet away at all times.

No physical contact, or you’re bound to get it

Lose the battle,

 and six feet under is where you’ll be admitted.

I said before,

Isolation is supposed to save my life 

I’m losing my touch

And it’s hard to grip it.

Cases are rising.

But the way suicide looking,

Covid ain’t the only rising statistic.

But y’all want me to be specific,

Being at home

Spent some time in a twilight

Down bad in a different zone.

Everyday I stayed to myself,

Always in my room.

I was low, waist deep

Beyond the fruit of the loom,

I wanted to tell my mother,

But if I said anything

she’d think I was being dramatic,

I gave my sister

A penny for my thought, 

but she denied the transaction.

When my mental health was 

denied it was hard for me to register. 

I’m a theater major,

I know that acting is one my x factors 

Because everyday 

I put on an act that I was okay, 

But sometimes, 

You can hear the turbulence in my vernacular 

but anxiety knows how to get on my bad side

It knows how to take me out of my character.

I tried using the utilities to cope

But the tools fail me.

Everyday my mind stayed trigger

Like my anxiety kept the block heavy.

Scared, to express my feelings

So I shed my tears internally.

I had ice in my veins,

Life was salt bae with the flick of wrist

Started burnin’ me.

Happiness cost a lot but

Depression could get you hurt for free.

Made me feel like a bad Bargain.

I tried to put value in myself,

But I had no worth in me.

Me and hope was butting heads,

They be ready to leave me,

It was Pennywise,

I thought they was giving me what I desired the most,

But just ended up deceiving me...

During the pandemic we saw many deaths, either from COVID-19 or from natural causes. But it all hit a bit harder because of the pandemic; it felt like an earthquake, bodies falling on us. I experienced this and I felt the horror most people felt.

Dan Drew was an amazing man. He was a talented actor, an ambitious teacher, and a kind person. When all is said and done, knowing someone lived a kind life makes their death hurt a bit less. Yes, there was the harsh reality that I would no longer be taught by a man as hilariously sarcastic as Dan, but then came the beauty. An idea of how to keep Dan alive in me after it all.

I created Liv’s Acting Venue as an ode to Dan and all his ideas. Teaching kids was new to me, but something I wanted to do more than anything. Something I didn't have the strength or belief in myself to do until after Dan’s passing. Strange how he could push me even after he was gone. Dan brought out my inner child, running through the theater breathless and laughing, trying to enunciate “unique New York” with barely a breath left in me. I took this to my students and they loved it. I was happier than ever. Here they were, smiling and laughing as they ran around their own rooms, and I could feel him, I could feel his ideas and teachings with them. And so I kept going and going and now I am able to keep his theatrical teachings alive, presenting them to children no more than nine years old.

Yes, death is harsh, but it is almost always beautiful if you choose to see it.

Student performing a monologue learned using Dan’s method

Practicing a tongue twister: Unique New York

It’s the little things that sustain me,
The sound of leaves rustling in the wind when the air is quiet
The feeling of warm water against my skin
The smell from the pages of old books beside my bed frame

The soundtrack to our lives has been police sirens, death tolls, and lies slipping from the tongues of our politicians
And as the anxiety swells up inside, I seek refuge in stillness —
In moments that seem to exist beyond the chaos of reality

I hold on to the image of sunrays splattered against my walls
I hold on to the feeling of calm spurred by the green of the plants on my windowsill
I create to escape the loneliness that shadows me

Even though physically I am isolated
I can still feel the residual warmth of a hug from a loved one on my skin
It looks like oranges and reds gushing out of me in the form of paint onto a blank canvas
And then all these things become palpable respites from the suffering and unease

Art becomes a vehicle for the emotions that exist within me
It is in the stillness and sanguine of these moments that I remind myself,

One day the dust will settle,
And I will not be standing alone

What Inspired the Poem?

One way to stop a panic attack is to focus on the visceral, to pay attention to your senses and anchor yourself back to the physical world. This is partly what inspired this piece.

This pandemic halted a lot of lives. It was a complete disruption of whatever semblance of “normalcy” that we were holding onto as a collective. For a lot of people, the pandemic induced or worsened already existing mental health struggles. Through poetry, I wanted to speak to the collective feeling of isolation and anxiety, but also to the pockets of peace and joy that anchored me throughout quarantine.

Through things like nature, art, and reflection through writing, I found momentary joy and kept myself from falling apart completely. I want this poem to be both an homage to those things that sustained me as well as a translation of my own personal emotions. The hope is that the poem will resonate with whomever comes across it in this very difficult time.

Home don’t hit like it used to,
Yeah I got tired of the lights
And the Bluetooth.
I just lay around
Watching videos on YouTube,
And me and baby baby
We don’t kick it like we used to.
And now I can’t run
From my feelings.
Yeah I’m fighting demons
I don’t know what to believe in.
Seems like prayers never
Getting higher than the ceiling.
Every days a struggle
That my baby ain’t relieving.

I’m running out of places to hide
I’ve come to hate the inside
Feels like I’m losing my mind
Over these troubling times.
I’m just a someone with too much on my mind
Feels like I’ve lost track of time
And this depression’s unkind
God knows I’m tired of crying.

God knows I’m tired of crying
God knows I’m tired of trying
Feels like I ran out of time.
Feel like I ran out of time
End of the world on my mind.

As the walls that were once your sanctuary,
Morph into a place of entrapment
As the world comes to an end
And the wicked run rampant.
As the days race by
And you begin to feel stagnant.
As your last bit of sanity
Shatters into small fragments.
Please remember,
Breathe easy.

Last year, people all around the world experienced a devastating change in the lives they lived. COVID-19 struck every single country and took everything we knew and loved, in the form of family, friends, occupations, and many more. Of the many things that occurred during my time spent in quarantine, the one that has affected me the most so far was definitely meeting and starting a relationship with my girlfriend Victoria. I had met Victoria a month before the pandemic started, and upon our first meeting, it felt like I knew her already. We quickly became friends during an assignment for our journalism class, helping each other find sources to develop our interview skills. After that, I discovered she shared another class with me later that same day. Since then, the two of us decided to hang out on the days we had those classes and got to know each other even more. We felt incredibly comfortable with each other in a short amount of time.

When the pandemic rocked the United States, Victoria and I would occasionally text and call each other throughout the day. What started out as hour-long conversations grew into all-night hangouts on the phone. There honestly wasn’t a day when we didn’t call each other, and the closeness we built over the phone transformed a genuine friendship into a feeling of attraction between us. One day she admitted to me that she had a slight crush on me and these sessions between us had fueled those feelings even more. I was ecstatic when I heard this because I felt the same way. I had never met a woman like her before, one that connected so naturally with me that I would lose sleep to have a conversation with her. Over the months of pandemic, my feelings towards her grew to the point where I just wanted to risk leaving quarantine to see if this relationship could evolve even more.

In June, the two of us decided to hang out and spend a day at a park near her home. From there, it took awhile to feel comfortable again, considering we had confessed not too long ago, but things felt incredibly natural over time. This eventually led to our first kiss and things haven’t been the same since.

One thing I noticed when I met Victoria was this sense of immediate comfort. When it comes to making friends, it takes me awhile to fully share some of my interests, depending on what brought us together in the first place and how long we’ve known each other. However, I felt like I could let my guard down and not repress any aspect of my personality when I talked with Victoria. I didn’t feel as if I had to blend in with her or as if anything I said may lose her. This comfort spread into my everyday life, and the confidence I have now compared to before I met Victoria is strikingly different. I’m still learning how to not to be embarrassed by some of my hobbies, but slowly and surely there is a sense of pride in the things I do and the new things I’ve found because of her. Thanks to her, I feel like I’m growing into a better person.

That’s the point of this post. While it’s great to be in a relationship, you don’t have to be in one to live a happy life. Victoria is a person that makes me feel as if I can do anything, even in the dark times we are currently struggling in. The pandemic has taught me that while we are in a world of uncertainty, it doesn’t mean we can’t find growth in the process. It just takes someone or something to bring out the best of you, no matter the scenario.

The stars and how it all works have always fascinated me, and thanks to the pandemic I can almost touch them now! As a little girl, I used to stare at the night sky looking at the stars and wishing that one day I could get a little closer to them, but I wasn't sure how. Those bright and color-changing lights have always made me wonder if there is more out there in the universe than what we already know, like another world or life, staring back at us. It wasn't until I was studying computer science that I had my first chance. 

During my last semester at ECC community college, my professor introduced me to the NASA Community College Aerospace Scholars (NCAS) program. While participating in this program, I got the chance to meet some official NASA employees, and learned about the opportunity to work for NASA as an intern. Right before applying, I noticed in the description that if selected I would have to fly to the center to do my internship and although this would be an amazing up-close experience, I am a mother of two boys and it would be too hard for my husband to take care of both of them alone. With the idea of being able to take care of my boys and follow my dreams I submitted my application and selected a center in New York City so I can stay local. I knew my chance of being selected were 1 in more than 16,000 people worldwide but I didn't let that discourage me. I gave my family the news about my experience and my decision to apply and I was surprised to see how excited they were for me. The time passed and the pandemic hit hard in New York City, and with this, my chances of ever doing an internship with NASA since all the local internships that I qualified for got either canceled or postponed. At this point, I felt disappointed and as if I had let my family down. I didn't know how to tell them that I had lost my chance. All of a sudden the pandemic had created a situation where people were not only losing their life, their jobs, but also their dreams. As a nontraditional Hispanic female student with two kids, a husband, and alone in this country, it hasn't been easy to pursue my childhood dream, but I made it this far and I was hoping to put into good use all my hard work.

A few more weeks passed and it was the end of July when all of a sudden I received news from my professors and NASA telling me that I had been selected to do an internship for the GSFC Maryland Center and due to the COVID-19 situation the internship was going to be fully virtual. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Not only I was able to pursue my dream, but also I would be able to do it and not worry about leaving my kids for a few months! It was incredible; I would finally be a NASA employee!! This experience helped me see that even when there were sour moments through the pandemic, it also gave me an opportunity inside the storm.

Playing dominos with my grandma was both frustrating and exciting. She would analyze the game and always knew what my next move would be. She would indicate the times I would have to pick up a domino piece, and even when I was so sure I would win the next game, she would laugh and say,  

"Domino for you, right?" And I would pick up another domino. And she would change it immediately! 

During our games we would talk about everything. I always learned something new about her. She told me about her life as a child living on a farm in the Dominican Republic. She recounted her memories of raising her children and other events in her 91-year-old life. I couldn't help but be fascinated by her strength, her perseverance and optimism even in this time of uncertainty and sadness.

She would recount her teenage years; sharing with me how she spent her time with her siblings, how supportive her parents were, and how different those times were. The desolate streets where from a distance you would only see streets, trees, and mountains. The conversations she would have with her siblings and neighbors. The joy and small troubles she had of her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. The happiness of Christmas where all the family would join for a huge feast. The antics that she would have with my grandfather, Enrique. But there was also sadness and challenges. The fear of living during a time of terror in a country where a dictator ruled. The loss of her two sons, Manolo and Freddy, longing to see them again. Being the only family member alive, while her parents, brothers, and sisters have all left this plane and gone into the next life. The strict upbringing she had, the longing for freedom to do and pursue what she wanted. She always wanted to finish school, but her parents never let her continue after finishing 3rd grade. Many moments from the past connect to what made her who she is. 

Playing dominos gave us an opportunity to laugh and have fun during times of uncertainty. Her excitement when she would win a game, her competitive nature during the game, her seriousness when she would lose her games, and the jokes she would share so that I would play a bad hand.

The pain and loss are still there. As I sit with my grandma playing dominos, I began to understand how valuable time is. How important it is for our state of mind and how often we forget to cherish them, to collect these small joyful moments into memories. 

Those small moments matter a lot to me, and I continue to create new memories with her, keeping her happy and smiling whenever possible. Memories that are unforgettable and everlasting.