I wake up at seven in the morning. It’s quiet. My residents are without a doubt sleeping. I feel as though I am there mother keenly aware of their sleeping patterns. Their voices had lulled me asleep and their silence has jolted me awake. As I take a shower I play youtube videos instead of music. The sound of people talking comforts me. I feel like I’m having a conversation with a group of friends. When I get out I play a documentary or the Great Britsh Bake-off. It’s strange seeing people interact with each other without masks. It reminds me of a time when I wasn’t terrified of meeting strangers.
When it’s time for class I’m eager to talk to people. Of course, it’s not the same as actually going to class. I miss sitting in my seat early and talking about assignments or making friends with the person next to me. When it’s time for homework I miss the library. My seat on the fourth floor all the way to the back and next to the window hasn’t been sat in for ages. It was the perfect spot where I could see people outside of the window running from class to class. But I study in my room now. I do everything in my room now.
If you are like me and live alone in the middle of a pandemic you are constantly aware of your newfound loneliness. I used to spend a lot of time by myself in college but I didn’t realize the comfort of other people. There’s unspoken solidarity between students studying in the library or sludging through a midterm. I feel like I go to school by myself most of the time. I realized that I needed a change. I missed interacting with living things. I thought about it and I realized that I had three options for companionship. A cat, a plant, or a fish.
It became obvious to me that I couldn’t take care of a cat. It wasn’t fair to the animal that when I went home I’d have to find another spot for it to live for a second because I have a dog. The idea of unexpected veterinary bills and constantly buying food literally made my bank account weep.
A plant sounded nice on paper but I don’t have a green thumb. Last year I had four succulents Aurora, Phillip, Briar, and Rose. I loved looking after them and found myself excited to be a plant mom. But, the more I thought about it the more I realized that they were just props. Cute living decorations that more than likely give me any comfort. I slated the idea for later. Maybe I’d become a plant mom again another day.
Then I focused on a fish. It had the benefits of the cat being alive without the price. It’s a little more challenging to take care of a fish than a plant but the more I thought about it this became a good thing. Cleaning my fishbowl would be a reminder to clean my own apartment. Caring for my fish is an indirect way of caring for myself. If I put the bowl on my desk she’s like a study buddy. An aquatic reminder that I’m not alone. It may be something silly but in times like this, it’s important to hold onto things that are silly. The world isn’t the place it used to be. But I’m sure my fish and I can brave the storm together.