Marquette University Intimations Project

Kathryn Rochford

Most of last year is a bit of a blur if I’m being completely honest with myself. In my personal timeline, March felt like it lasted 9 weeks, April was nonexistent, May was only a good blip once the semester ended, and June and July were mashed together like some weird toddler’s food concoction on their high-chair tray. What I do remember, most vividly, is the feelings that early last year evoked in me. 

I remember the exact moment I heard UWM had cancelled classes and the incoming onslaught of dread from knowing innately that Marquette would probably cancel too. I was at my little brother’s 5^th grade Declamation performance talking with the dad of a friend of mine who had just heard the news. In a panic, I texted my friends who all panicked with me. I remember anxiously waiting on that fated email that would end it all. Ironically, my mom and I were in the car on the way to Target and Chick-fil-a while the rest of my siblings were in school because we wanted to shop before my spring break ended. I immediately broke down sobbing and we ended up going to an Aldi’s and then going home instead because I no longer felt up for it. The emails came pouring in: professors saying they were going to update our syllabi, university guidelines for how to get some things for the supposed month, at that time it was still only a month, that we’d be home. 

I remember trying to think about it positively. Surely my siblings’ schools would continue to run in person since we live in a small town in Central Illinois and Marquette was only affected because of the large number of students who attend it and because it’s in the middle of a city. I remember thinking I could ask to observe some of my former teachers as they taught, and maybe even help with my high school’s varsity girls’ soccer team that I played on all four years of school. I remember thinking that it would be nice to have extra time with my family since I had been saying before spring break how much I wanted to be home with them and how much I needed a break. Don’t people always say be careful what you wish for? Yeah, well, clearly, I should’ve wished for better. 

I remember that first real grocery run my mom did with her makeshift mask made of leftover fabric we had in the basement. She sanitized everything she bought, and the stories started to roll in of the packed aisles and lack of toilet paper, soap, and Clorox wipes. 

I remember the look on my dad’s face when he was told he wouldn’t be able to go back to the office for an indefinite amount of time. He was happy in some ways, considering the commute is 40 minutes and he had meetings that used to start as early as 6 a.m. He also used to travel a lot, so the idea of being home with us for a bit was nice until it dawned on him that there would be 5 other people roaming the house, also using the Wi-Fi. It only made it more comical when my family got our very first dog right before everything really shut down. She was 8 weeks old and the biggest bundle of energy in the world. Some days, I think she is the real reason I got out of bed. My dad used to witness the pure chaos that would occur when she would run to pee on the front rug right in front of the office and he’d be in the middle of a work call trying not to bust out laughing at us scrambling to grab her and paper towels. 

My family tried to keep it lively one week by doing themed dinners- something my mom had seen on Facebook. We had a tie-dye night, a decade day, and even a day where we dressed solely in formal attire (my sister even made a cake for it?!). 

The hope started to die little by little when school was cancelled indefinitely for my siblings. My brother, a senior in high school, was initially happy that he could do online school since senioritis had already set in for him. The happiness faded as he realized it meant no track season, no senior prom, and no real graduation. 

I remember the Facetime calls with my friends as we sat in disbelief and talked about how things were at home. I remember the feeling that persists even today that if I’m doing anything other than schoolwork, I’m not being productive enough. Online school is great in theory, but the way it plagues every college, high school and grade school kid’s mind is honestly terrifying. The accessibility makes it feel like we can never really step away. I’m not sure how I finished out that spring semester if I’m being honest.

There’s one day from mid-March or so that I still think about and get teary-eyed. I was in the middle of one of my online lectures, trying to take notes on my teacher’s voice-over when I heard a commotion downstairs and outside my house. There was honking and cheering, and I went to my window truly to tell whoever it was to shut up. Instead, I stood by my window as tears filled my eyes. It was my grade school teachers doing a drive-by parade for my littlest brother to encourage him (and all the rest of my siblings and I since they were all our teachers, too) that they knew how hard we were working, to tell us how proud they were of us and that we would all make it through it together. Nothing to this day has hit me that hard or was that needed in that moment. 

I remember the motivational quotes people would post on Instagram about how we would get through this, how we all had to play our part in the fight. I remember the videos from ICU and ER nurses warning everyone of what was to come. I remember the sense of unity I felt with other people my age and with everyone in the world about the shutdowns. I remember learning my governor’s name for the first time. I also remember the ridiculous memes people made to use dark humor to cope with what was going on in the world. One of my friends even created a “corona-themed playlist” that had songs like Sicko Mode, SOS, and Mask Off to lighten up the mood. I don’t think any part of the world has fully processed what happened during those months, and we probably won’t until years later. I know I certainly haven’t processed it all.

As we round out at over a year of living in a pandemic, and as things slowly continue to improve, I am shocked by how weird it feels to get back to “normal activities”. The first baseball game, the first packed grocery store, the runs on campus, it all feels like I’m not supposed to be there. I’m beyond happy to think about the world getting back to normal, but I am left with this metaphor in my head of what Covid has done. Perhaps Covid and our memories of it will be a bit like a scar or a burn mark. It hurt initially, but the lasting impact it has over time serves as a means to reflect on the lessons it taught us. More importantly, it framed our thinking in a way that we know now how we want to live in the future. 

I may not remember much of the individual days from last year, but I know the mark it has left on me. Our world collectively turned upside down, but there were still moments I look back on and smile. Our chance to sit back and reflect, our chance to appreciate the little things, even if it’s simply seeing a stranger’s smile as you pass them by, all was given to us by having what we love most taken away. Our sense of normalcy may be gone, but the feelings and appreciation I have for what I had taken for granted can never be taken away. Of that much, I am grateful. Here’s to watching the world mend, little by little.