As a 13-year-old, I’ve always wanted to live through history. I’ve heard stories from my parents and grandparents about these big world-altering events and always wished I had been there to witness them. But, now that I’m actually living through history, it not quite what I expected it to be.
When the news first came out that schools were being closed, the hallways in school were electric. Everyone was excited about their “2-week holiday” that for the rest of the day all we could do was sit and talk about what we would do on our coronacation. I don’t think it even crossed our minds that once we left that school we wouldn’t be returning for half a year.
The friends that you wouldn’t take to your house but you’d talk to in school are really underrated. You don’t realise the importance of someone you can have the craic with in class without too much commitment until your stuck at home. It’s weird to think that the people we’re not talking to now are the people that we’ll lose touch with when we go to college.
I feel like if school was still on it would only be April 19th by now. Time doesn’t feel like time, it feels like another day until we’re “free”. Another day until we can go to the hairdressers, another day until we can go to the cinema, another day until we can go on a shopping haul. Those things always seemed so “grounded”. Like they could never be taken away, but you don’t realise how desperate you are to swim in a pool you haven’t touched in 2 years until a pandemic.
So, living through history isn’t exactly what I imagined it to be. I expected wars, disasters and riots. But sometimes history is hair roots, chipped nails and google classroom. But I think I prefer that to the former any day.