Letter from the editor

At this point, everything’s already been said about the way our lives have changed. There’s no reason for me to repeat once again all the canceled events and excitement. I think we’ve all slowly learned to come to terms, in our own ways, with this strange alternate universe we live in. 

But as I’m sure we all do at times, I keep imagining where I would be in my “other life.” I would have celebrated with my senior friends and given them the goodbyes they deserved. I would have finished my spring sport season with definite victory. I certainly wouldn’t have taken my AP exams with people screaming down the hall and I wouldn’t be sending out this final issue of The Fourcast on email. However, the more I drag myself into the hole of this “other world,” the more I struggle to pull myself out. So for me, it’s time to let go. 

Recently, my mom started a gratitude journal for me and my siblings to write down one sentence about something we’re grateful for each day. I rolled my eyes at first, but there’s something cathartic about remembering all the things I still have and take for granted.

For one, I’ve been spending time in the northeast with my extended family, At times I want to curl up in a ball and hide in my room, but I love the extra time and memories I’m making. I still can go outside and practice lacrosse, and I still have Netflix and TikTok (of course) and every show I could possibly watch at my fingertips. Finally, I still get to share my thoughts with you through this newspaper. 

So, as I slowly cut the ties from my “other life” and start accepting where I am, I still feel weird. There’s no better way to describe it and I’m not a  therapist, but I think it’s ok to “feel weird.” I mean, I ended my junior year by closing my computer in my bedroom. I stood up and walked downstairs and ate dinner. That was it.

In general, I don’t think we can feel normal after this. How can we when about 100,000 people have died in the United States alone? The next time I’m in a big crowd, I’ll be wary about touching people. When I have to shake someone’s hand, there will be a little flash in the back of my mind saying “wait, stop.” And I never thought I would miss school so much.

 But it’s not just school, it’s the environment: sitting in front of my locker with chaos circling me, but still somehow finishing my math homework; walking into advisory and falling into Mrs. Sanchez’s comfy chair; and passing my senior friends in the hallway. I miss it all and I’m sad. We’re all sad, but I think it’s finally time to move on. So (to be as cheesy as possible) I’m turning the page. Goodbye “other life.” Hello to a new start. 

Story by Ava Berger, Editor-in-Chief