By Halle Fukawa

    As I am writing this column, I have become starkly aware of the fact that I cannot remember the last time I actually ate breakfast on this kitchen table. After three years of grabbing the most convenient snack I could find and eating it while walking out the front door, sitting down and eating a bowl of cereal feels nostalgic.

   As a junior in high school, most people would not be surprised to hear that I have had a pretty stressful year. While I did come to regret taking on two sports, drumming, dance, and volunteer work in addition to my 0-6 period school day, I endured it, because that anxiety of weighing oneself down with constant activities and classes is not just common; it is expected. 

   With school, practices, and volunteering cancelled, I quickly found myself having more time than I knew what to do with. And, even though I technically was not obligated to do any work, every free day felt heavy and precious. I saw every activity that was not directly working towards a goal as being wasted.

   Solving a puzzle with my mom felt like I was putting off my SAT prep. Baking with my brother felt like an excuse not to practice Mandarin. Playing basketball with my dad was not worth it unless I was intentionally improving on the game. I suddenly went from having no time at all to having more than I could afford.

   But why?

   Why was I conditioned to see three weeks of free time as a calm before the storm? Why did I see an opportunity to be with my family as a waste of time? When did it become expected of us to survive through the year rather than to live while we are young?

     Now that classes are online and my parents are working from home, I cannot help but feel like someone’s clicked the pause button on my world. Of course, one look at the news reassures us that, no, the world has not stopped turning.

   According to the Washington Post, as of May 4, “twenty-two million Americans are unemployed due to the pandemic,” and are struggling to support their families. 

  But for those of us who are fortunate enough to only suffer a mild case of cabin fever, we should take a moment to appreciate the time this isolation has bought us. It is a time for us to take a step back, take in what is going on around us, and find ways to show compassion for our friends who are trying to make ends meet. 

   That does not mean we should ignore all of our online assignments and play video games, or nap through the day. This time should serve as a wake up call, a time-out in order for us to reflect on how we are living our lives. It is time for us to remember how to enjoy walking around the neighborhood, reading books past bedtime, cooking breakfast with family- things that we have forgotten along the way. 

   It took a global pandemic to remind us how to play.