Normal. What an average thing. Something we are all accustomed to—something we take for granted. For some people, the whole point of life is to become something other than normal, to become something new, something unique. For most of us, normal is what we are used to every day, something we get sick of. Normal is just your everyday ordinary.

But now, I would give anything for the world to just go back to normal.

I would give anything to walk into Mr. Smith’s classroom for first hour, exhausted from the lack of sleep I got and trying to wake my brain up for the newest calc lesson that I probably won’t comprehend at first.

I would give anything to be in AP Bio with the classmates I have grown up with, laughing at some pointless joke and experimenting with something new.

I would give anything to sit at a circular table in the cafeteria with my friends, eating our school lunches and talking about whatever the latest topic is, smiling and laughing together.

I would give anything to clap out of the daily TCT meetings and sit in my corner of the classroom, nestled into one of Mr. George’s comfy chairs.

I would give anything to be running around on our home field right now with the soccer team, getting ready for the bright season we had ahead of us.

I would give anything to have the excitement back that had been building up for so many years about going on senior spring break to make those final memories with my friends.

I would give anything to get rid of this pit in my stomach that is telling me we won’t go back to school. To have hope for a final prom, a final soccer season, a senior prank. To have hope that I will get to walk across the stage at my graduation that I have been working towards for twelve years. To have hope that I will get a real final day of high school. 

I would give everything to just have things be normal again. Nothing more–just normal. The normal I used to get so bored of is all I want now.

Because right now, all I can feel is that everything is getting stolen away from me, from every senior in the class of 2020. This is supposed to be the best time of the year; it’s our last chance to make those final memories—the conclusion to our long story. 

But it appears our story will get cut short, and our conclusion will be robbed away from us, left as another novel never to be published because the ending just never came together. 

For other grades, this “break” is nice—it’s a vacation. But for us—seniors—it’s an ending and a daily reminder of all we have been looking forward to that we don’t get. It’s final moments we don’t get to spend with our friends, final moments we won’t get to spend with our teachers or our coaches or the classmates we don’t see outside of school, and final moments we won’t get to spend just enjoying where we are at and who we are with.

I don’t know if I would say it’s more scary or sad. And this may sound selfish, but I don’t know if I’m more concerned about the virus or about losing all I have left. 

It’s a weird feeling. I’m stuck in this weird place in time. It’s weird to think that I may never get to walk the halls of FHC ever again. It’s weird to think I might not get to walk across the stage and shake the hands of staff as I finally receive what I have worked so hard for the last twelve years. 

And it’s sad. I’m so sorry for all of the people who had worked so hard on their musical performance. I’m so sorry to all of the seniors who might not even get their senior season. I’m so sorry for all of the seniors who had their state competitions stolen from them. I’m so sorry for all the seniors who might lose their grand finale. 

This just shows how you never know what can happen. You never know when everything is just going to fall apart, or when a pandemic is going to shut the world down. You never realize how much you take “normal” for granted until the world turns to everything but normal.

I’m sorry to those who are losing their jobs over this pandemic. I’m sorry to everyone, honestly, because this virus hasn’t gone unnoticed for anyone—it’s affected us all. And I’m so sorry to the class of 2020 seniors: I’m so, so sorry for everything you’re losing. 

And above all, I’m sorry I took “normal” for granted. Because right now, the only thing in this entire world that I want is for things to be normal again.