I am grateful for the spring, for the bundles of green that exploded last night from the white, five-petaled fireworks that exploded a week ago from the buds of the cherry trees lining the familiar Georgia backroads after that haphazard March rain; the early azaleas, flaunting their pinks and reds and whites before they are swallowed, wilted, by the mud; the glimpses of life appearing first slowly, and then quickly, as I watch, for the last time in my life, this familiar backdrop as it morphs from late-winter to mid-spring to quasi-summer, snake season, backyard barbecues and the screams of liberated children borne across the neighborhood by the humidity.

I am grateful for how deeply I have fallen in love with running and with the weightlessness and mental clarity that accompany the rhythmic pounding of my Asics (sponsor me, please) on the asphalt, mud, gravel. Running is what has allowed me to live in the moment, and I am thankful that I have been blessed with both the time and the physical capacity to engage in it. 

I am grateful that I am able to continue my studies, that I have, in the first place, studies to continue, that I have discovered my passions, that I am able to pursue those passions. 

I am grateful for my friends, new and old, those who made my experience in Italy beautiful, those who I have returned to (and socially distanced myself from), those I have had to hug from thousands of miles away.

I am grateful to Italy for one of the best months of my life, for the strong and kind people I met there, especially those who have now been pummeled by the situation, the (abundance of gluten free) food, the general openness and laidbackness, and for instilling in me a little piece of the “dolce far niente” mindset I find so ideal. I will be back. 

I am especially grateful for my family, for their fearlessness in the light of the unknown, in awe of my mother’s willingness to uproot her life and career, proud of my younger brother for his ambitions and of my dad for getting his dream job. I am grateful to have a family to come back to, a beautiful home and beautiful trees and plentiful food. I cannot not be grateful. 

And I am. I am grateful. I am eternally grateful, but I am drowning in this global situation. Drowning, because it is everywhere I look, everywhere I open my ears. Yes, this is cataclysmic. Yes, it is terrifying. Yes, we could be doing better. Yes, but. 

Yes, but I am so lucky. I feel so affected precisely because of how fortunate I am, because this is the most immediate thing in my life right now, and it is so unfathomable to me that something this upending could happen to me. I’ve found myself forgetting that I am fortunate that this is not a more deadly disease, that I am free, that I do not have to worry about having enough food or water or having a place to sleep or having a support network to fall back on or having clean air to breathe and (presumably) a long and relatively carefree life ahead of me. Those ultimately most profoundly affected by this situation will be those more disadvantaged or vulnerable than myself.

What have I done to deserve this good fortune? Yes, things will probably get worse, but they will eventually and undoubtedly get better, because I am, even in the midst of a pandemic, better off than most. I wish there was something I could do to alleviate the suffering, to spread a little bit of my good fortune to those who need it right now (alas, I wish but do not act). 

Since my return from Italy, I have thus spent a surprising amount of time reflecting on the aspects of my life I am most thankful for. I was at first confused. Why was I not angrier at life? I should’ve been furious, unable to concentrate on my boring suburban life, mourning what I had lost. Upon hearing that I would be sent home, I was angry, I did mourn. I mourned deeply and slowly, but these emotions were directed more at the misfortune of my personal situation than at any deep-set misery. Selfishly, once I realized that my predicament was not personal and was instead a universal situation, I wiped away my tears. I felt very much not alone. 

But it was only when I understood I don’t got it bad, I got it good, it was only when I understood this that the gratitude began flowing from my fingers and dripping from my mouth, exploding, like the blossoms from the cherry trees, from the very core of my being. 

~Soph