The End?

By Zara Quiter, TIWP Student

When is the end, really? Now that I think about it, when was the start? What marked it, the first person to catch it? When the government ordered lockdown? To be completely honest, I thought we were through the worst of it. I thought that COVID would wind down, people would stop getting it, life would go back to “normal” whatever that meant, anyways. Normal being starting middle school at OSA, or “Fame,” which my mom says. Not stressing about germs or distancing or a rando guy coughing. But could I really just forget? Throw away the masks and let that rando guy cough without getting annoyed, and inching away, inch by inch, only that sympathetic person who’s just as uncomfortable as me noticing? Would Camp Tawonga really just not care, and not make us quarantine before camp and test and have the 2 out of 3? I don’t think so. That little scar COVID has left on all of us, we can’t see it. It would be my elbow. When in a crowd, an adult’s hands meet there. There’s where I flinch and brush off their touch, only to realize I’ve spread it to my hands and just freak out. When my parents came down with COVID, my mom yesterday, dad two days ago, I was… Afraid? Surprised? A lot of things. I remember the Pre-Camp Health Guidelines and the Directors talking about getting COVID before camp and procedures and stuff. I thought, I just can’t wait to go to camp! I feel bad about that one kid who just won’t get to go… And now it might be me. Me! Me, of all campers, might not get to go. I’m 4 days out, still Negative and hoping for the best. I’m staying with my grandparents and masking all day. And even if I do get COVID, the camp made room for me at Session 4. I’m lucky. No matter what happens, I get to go. But I feel like I’m not. A lot of people have gotten it, so what’s the biggee that my family did? I remember my mom saying: “Things don’t really go wrong that much for you.” After I got my belay card taken. And really, she’s right. Sure, I didn’t want the pandemic. I would rather my two kittens didn’t face major health problems this winter. I’m sure my brother, who’s at camp right now, would’ve preferred not to break his foot and wrist. (Actually, I’m not really sure about that one. He does love to tell his injury stories…) And I’d like it if my best friend didn’t move away. But now things are going wrong. For me. And now I’m in bed, a little downstairs room with my own bathroom, in bed, clickity clackity-ing on my keyboard at 10:33 in the night, my Inbox, Drive, and “The Owl House” on Disney pulled up, thinking about the end. What marks the end of this thing that caused death, sadness, disappointment? Or will it never really be over?

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