6
May 5, 2021
The Hawk Newspaper
A snapshot of life
CARLY CALHOUN ’21 Copy Editor
LESLIE QUAN ’22 Columnist
NENAGH SHEEHAN ’21 Assistant Features Editor
The trek across campus has always been my favorite part of the day, seeing people during free period walking with their friends or eating lunch in DB. I always kept my eyes peeled for anyone I knew because that’s what makes St. Joe’s feel like home. I could always count on the Barbelin bell tower to loudly chime three minutes before the hour. One day last year at the beginning of May, I took a walk around campus. It looked as if nothing had changed—the bronze hawk still stood tall in front of Sweeney Field welcoming me back to campus. But I had never seen St. Joe’s look so lonely. The bell tower still chimed three minutes before the hour, the sound echoing out across an empty campus. The only one listening was me.
When restaurants first closed because of the pandemic, my mom and I decided to get creative at home and set up a dining area on our back porch. We strung up lights, cut some flowers for a vase and played restaurant music while we ate. Every day after dinner, we would go for a walk around the neighborhood. The best part of our walks was definitely when we got to see our favorite neighborhood dogs—Nooka and Quincy. Being present and living in the moment, whether that be eating pineapple fried rice with my mom or petting a dog, has made me realize that the most beautiful and precious things in my life are the little things that happen every day.
My senior year ripped away from me by a force nobody saw coming. Usually a control freak, but this time, I had to let fate run its course. Zoom after Zoom feeling drained, burnt out, and depressed; I ask myself when will this be over? Seeing my friends and family on a tiny dark screen leaves me lonely, with a pit in my stomach. Computer head, tired eyes and dark circles, all from long nights staring endlessly at a screen. The pandemic caused all this; I noticed my smile beginning to fade, and my motivation diminish. Yet still, through all of this, I am grateful for not only my health but the health of my loved ones. And I know through strength and hope from the people around me, everything will be okay...eventually.
RUBY DILLARD ’24 Special to The Hawk
FATMATA SAKHO ’21 Special to The Hawk
FAITH COWELL ’22 Columnist
The first time I saw the St. Joe’s campus was in 2018 when I was a junior in high school touring colleges. I remember the lively atmosphere, smiling faces and what felt like a never-ending list of opportunities. Once the coronavirus pandemic isolated the U.S. population in quarantine, I lost much of my excitement to enter college. Many people in my life told me to lower my expectations, but when I arrived at St. Joe’s in August the campus was still alive. I was immediately immersed in the culture during freshman orientation. During the first week on campus I was grateful to see that the exciting environment, positive attitudes and inviting activities that made me commit to St. Joe’s were still prevailing on Hawk Hill.
“You have time,” my mother said as she cracked three eggs onto a sizzling hot pan. “If you can’t do it today, you’ll always have tomorrow.” Time would always be there, I believed. People would always be here. I have time. Then weeks turned to months. No one was allowed to leave. People changed as much as seasons. People died as much as dreams. I realized that time was not an infinite loop, but a borrowed jewel, too precious to be left unattended, for it can be stolen, no warning.
I wasn’t supposed to be here this year. Italy awaited me for the spring semester, months studying in Florence, weekends spent roaming Tuscany in flowing dresses and espadrilles. I’d been waiting to explore Venice since I was 10 years old, watching my brother play a video game set there. I was going to learn about food and wine, finally achieve fluency in the language I’d been studying since I was 14. Warm sunshine on Cinque Terre. Easter with my family in Positano. Connecting with distant relatives in San Fele. Now I’ve shifted my traveling desires to the States, feeling rejected and disappointed, grieving for my dream.
