Last Day of Freedom

Whether from a news outlet, a family member, or a neighbor (standing six feet away), people are hearing that the world will be different after this pandemic. 

One thing I have learned about myself in my seventeen years of life: I am geared toward the future. I constantly think about the next assignment I have to complete, my plans for the following day, and, recently, the time when everything will go back to normal. 

But will things ever really go back to normal? Will we ever again leave our houses without hand sanitizer in our pockets and masks covering our faces? Will a new greeting replace handshakes, hugs, and fist bumps? 

Will the world change so much that we will look back on our pre-pandemic days as a foolish, unsanitary time when we washed our hands too infrequently, the way we now think about the Middle Ages? Or will we reminisce about a time of freedom when we could travel the world, eat at a restaurant, and invite a friend over with carefree liberty? 

Photo: Friends Central School

I remember my last day of in-person school. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that we would be heading into a seemingly endless quarantine. The pandemic, however, did cross my mind. As I was getting ready for school, almost throwing on a sweatshirt and sweatpants, I stopped myself. I wondered, “What if this is the last day I will go to school?” I couldn’t have everyone’s final memory of me being one big blob of gray polyester; so I upgraded to jeans, a black shirt, and my teddy bear jacket. 

Later, as I was giving a friend a ride home, I asked, “What if we just had our last day of school?” 

“That would be crazy,” he said, and we drove away from our school for the final time, not giving it another thought. 

More Last Days

I interviewed a few Swarthmore residents to learn about their last regular days. Marie Lowry, a junior at Strath Haven High School, said, “I hung out with a friend, played with my dog outside, and went to Wawa to get food. It was just a fun day, and we weren’t worried about coronavirus.” 

Abby Dawes, a young adult SHHS alumna in Swarthmore, also had “a super regular day. It wasn’t an exciting day at all, but it wasn’t a bad day.” She continued, “I work at Burlap and Bean. We talked about corona, but we weren’t really thinking that everything was going to blow up over the weekend. Then I went to CVS to get toothpaste and chilled at home for a while.” 

As she did every Friday, Kathy Gerner, a longtime Swarthmore resident, volunteered at the library. “We were using hand sanitizer and we were wiping down the counters, but no one, I think, had any sense of what this was going to be. By the time I got home around 4:30, I had an email saying that as of the following Monday the library was going to be closed.”

None of people were aware that this Friday the 13th would be their last normal day. Had they known, Marie Lowry, Abby Dawes, and Kathy Gerner all would have done something to make their day a little more special. 

Had They Known

“I would have made an effort to hang out with a bigger group of people,” Marie said. “I also would have gotten a vanilla milkshake at Wawa.” Overall, she explained, “I wish I had done more while I could, because now I’m so bored.” 

“If I had known,” said Abby Dawes, “I would have gotten so much more excited about every little thing that I did at work that day and found joy and value in all of it. I would have thought how this might be the last drink I serve someone, or this might be the last time I talk to this regular customer.” She added, “Part of me selfishly wishes I had stocked up on all the paint and books that I wanted.” 

Kathy Gerner said, “I would have gotten my hair cut and gotten my nails done. But on a more serious note, I would have wanted to spend time with my grandchildren.” 

What We Value

Abby Lausch, a teacher at Westtown School and mother of two, knew the significance of that Friday. It was the first day of spring break, and her school had announced that they would not be returning for at least a month. “Typically, on the first day of spring break, we would get together with friends or go see a movie. But things were clearly moving in a not-great direction. We went out to lunch because I kind of thought it might be the last time we could do that, and I wanted to make it feel special.” 

A month into quarantine, she misses aspects of her previous life. “Just popping in stores,” she said. “We used to go to the Co-op for an item or two maybe three to four times a week.” She added, “We will be going for a walk, and the girls will ask if we can stop and get a donut. Of course, no, we can’t. Now they don’t even ask.” 

This pandemic has given nearly everyone new insight into the things they value by revealing what they had taken for granted. Marie misses “being able to run on the sidewalk without having to avoid people.” Abby Dawes misses frequent trips to visit friends. Aside from spending time with her grandchildren, Kathy Gerner misses “being outside and being with people, the library, going out to lunch with my friends, and playing bridge with a group of ladies.” 

What Next?

Hopefully, we will experience all of these little things again soon. But what if we don’t? What if Friday, March 13, was truly our last day of “normal life”? The question remains: What will life be like after the pandemic? 

Probably everyone has been pondering this. Marie thinks “a lot of stuff that’s gotten moved online is going to stay online because it’s just simpler.” College information sessions and tours, for example. “Now that we can do them online, people won’t want to go through the hassle of actually visiting a college.” 

Abby Lausch worries that if coronavirus proves a long-lived problem, as some headlines have been suggesting, “I can’t imagine us going to concerts or movie theatres, honestly for years. Imagine going to a football game with thousands of people in the stadium. It’s so hard to imagine feeling comfortable doing that again.” 

Kathy Gerner also worries “about small businesses, like the ones uptown in Swarthmore. I love going to New York and seeing Broadway shows, but I don’t know that I’m ever going to want to go to New York again.” 

All are sad about aspects of our old lives that we may not get back. Abby Dawes, however, pointed out the potential for positive change. Underappreciated and underpaid essential workers might receive more respect and fair wages for all they are doing to help. Reduced travel might improve the environment. 

“On a personal level,” she said, “the slowdown has been really appreciated. Had this not happened, I would have had no time to breathe, rest, read my bible, and do the things that bring me genuine joy.” 

It is impossible to know exactly which things we won’t get back and exactly what we’ll carry into the future. Thinking about these unanswerable questions can be frustrating. Instead, I think that we should focus on what we can control and a question we can answer: What was your life like before the coronavirus arrived? 

Take a minute to write down memories of pre-pandemic life. Someday, in a very different future, we may find the mundane things worth remembering.

Sophia David is a junior at Friends’ Central School. She lives in Swarthmore.