Features

I

I had just come back to the cold streets of New York with glitter and booze crusted in my hair. There was talk and anxiety of a new virus plaguing China. At the time I’m sure we all felt untouchable, I know I did. Earlier that week I was in New Orleans celebrating Mardi Gras — drunkenly decked out in sequins and marching through crowds. 

It was spring break and the halls of the school’s print shop were silent. The news grew louder though. Cases were popping up all over the city. All of us could never have anticipated the loss we would be experiencing in the coming week. Students had returned from their spring break travels and the shop was full of life again, although with an air of concern. Tuesday of that week, fear had fully set in and the college announced it’s closure for the week. That week grew into a month, which then expanded to many months. There was an announcement of a full closure of campus, I needed to gather some of my belongings. 

I hesitantly drove into Manhattan for the very first time. As I drove through the streets of Chinatown it was jarring to see them so vacant. Throughout that entire car ride I felt like I was in a different place. This was not the chaotic city I have known my entire life. When I reached the campus building I felt an overwhelming anxiety. Entering the empty floor of the print shop I felt my body quivering and my mind was completely scattered. A place I called my second home now felt foreign, dangerous and eerie. I gathered everything I needed, as quickly as possible, fearing the virus was all around me, and left. 

Leaving the safety of my house, for any reason, seemed selfish and unnecessary. I hated feeling that way.

The lockdown extended through the winter and well into spring. There was no end in sight. The isolation and abundant loneliness was felt by us all. A society so easily connected with the world was disconnected. With the days lengthening and warmer air setting in, the season of spring which brings joy and rebirth was plagued with a looming darkness and symphony of sirens. 

II

With a desire for rebirth after a dreary winter is the hope of warmer months of sweet relief. For the first time since the shutdown I decided to have a socially distanced gathering in my back yard. There was a breath of normalcy between my peers. We all can feel some genuine connection of hope for life beyond this point. The year was filled with so many zoom calls. There was no escape from the glaring light of my computer screen. What seemed like a full day, also felt like a wasted day. The body aches and fatigue settles in quickly. But, summer becomes a time for exploration and deep connection with myself and what I want my life to be.

Like every city dweller I, too, have a yearning for escape. I begin to journey to the mountains of New York and have gained a newfound love for challenges set by nature. I have a new lust for life and incredible views. I wake before the sun rises. I become in tune with the morning person that I am. With this new lust for body endurance I turn to another challenge. I become a cyclist! I invest in my first bike, named Celeste. Her frame is the color of the sky. A new fascinating world began to open to me.

As summer passes and fall will bring the beginning of a new school year the, lockdowns begins to lift. Campus has reopened and my newfound love of cycling has now become my main transportation. I can even weave through Manhattan traffic! The freedom and fresh open air far outweighs the claustrophobic and dirty atmosphere of the subway system. Before the pandemic started I felt I would get the plague on the subway. It seems only fitting that COVID would be lurking everywhere down there. Staying above ground is always life giving to me.   

Melissa Guido is a printmaker, illustrator, pasta maker and part-time word composer who is pursuing an MFA at the School of Visual Arts.