It’s an hour before midnight on a brisk Saturday evening in February. Downtown Boston’s residential streets often welcome imbibed wanderers, but tonight feels noticeably different - a bit eerie. A few packs of straggling twenty-somethings yell something at one another. An older man drives by, hurling an insult toward a young woman in our own group.
Unfortunately, better judgement has mandated I retire early for the night, along with my best friend and his girlfriend. The two of them battling colds, and myself fighting the insomnia inherent to late-night escapades and having just flown across international waters, we decide it best to head home.
Seated in the back right corner of the Uber we’ve just tumbled into, I mull over the thought which repeatedly surfaces whenever I find myself in a position far from my normal day-to-day existence: If someone had told me that, three years ago to this day, I’d be where I am in at this very moment, how would I have reacted?
I breach the subject with my traveling companions, who entertain my wandering mind as I list the experiences of my previous three years in a 30-second span.
“If someone had guaranteed me that three years ago, I’d be traversing the suburbs of Boston with my best friend (why does he live in Boston?) and his girlfriend (who?) after I’ve just been in Europe, a trip inspired by seeing my favorite artist perform (Halsey, who is that?), and, on top of that, the next day I’d return to Connecticut (when did I move there?) to resume my job as a podcast producer (what actually is a podcast, and what’s a producer?)” I say.
My friends briefly acknowledge my point about the odd ways in which the world operates, but silence soon fills the car once again.
For the rest of the night and my bus ride home the following day, I remain entranced by the thought of the unpredictable nature of progress and how, even though it’s paramount to dedicate our energy to the power of the present moment, it’s also quite the exercise to inwardly reminisce and assess whether the status quo resemble the dreams we once laid out for ourselves in adolescence.
And just three weeks later, I again find myself asking that same question. Except this time, my answer feels a lot less personal.
If you had told me -- or anyone -- three years ago, let alone three weeks ago, that the state government, at President Trump’s initial urging, is forbidding me from leaving my home for any purpose other than what is subjectively deemed “essential?”, what would I have said? And that a deadly virus from China has sparked worldwide fear, caused a global economic collapse, shut down my beloved sports leagues, closed most public areas and most importantly, claimed innocent lives? And that this government-mandated self-isolation period, at its worst, could extend deep into the summer, and maybe even beyond?
If my college history professor had told me all of this in 2017, I would have stopped him at the moment he said Donald Trump still ran the country.
And three years from now, considering the historic and unprecedented nature of the current state of affairs, I can’t help but wonder how we’ll collectively remember this moment. As a flash in the pan that left destruction in its wake surely, but actually dissipated faster than the experts predicted? Or, will those of us lucky enough to survive the pandemic, recall a four, five, six (or more) months-long shutdown of life’s most precious human experiences?
However the history books remember this moment, I’m confident in assuming we’ll emerge from this crisis as better participants in American society.
Three years from now, if you can guarantee me that the lessons learned from this situation will improve us all as individuals, that the remaining years of our own existences will be filled with communal love, appreciation for one another, support for small, local businesses everywhere, a newfound respect for getting outside and interacting with the random people we pass on the street, then, and only then, would I argue a crisis like this, despite its massive tolls taken on every aspect of our lives, could maybe, possibly, pose some positive consequences.
In the meantime, I urge you to take the time to appreciate how far you’ve come, what you’ve persevered through in the past, what you’re persevering through right now, and where you hope to find yourself in three years. Even though it may not presently feel like it, that day will come sooner than you think.
The unacknowledged byproduct of tragedy is change. Rather than dwell on the overwhelming amount of negatives circulating, let’s instead focus on the positive and imagine the countless ways humanity will improve in direct response to this crisis.
Because three years from now, the world has the potential to be a much better place.
Let’s not waste the opportunity.
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