Blowing in the Wind

by Xiaoxuan Hu

I have been trying hard to figure out my feelings. What is this hurt that has driven me to tears every day this past week, since the news that the college would be closed. What is this pain that wakes me up in the middle of the night, when I think about a home that I can never go back to again. What is this fear that threatens to engulf who I am. I am trying hard to understand.

[The coronavirus, Covid-19, disrupted the daily rhythm of life for people worldwide. It jumps from one person to another in the droplets of sneezes or coughs. As the droplets enter the human airway, the virus fuses its own membrane with hijacked healthy cells and replicates itself extensively through producing viral proteins. Eventually the immune system may overreact, obstructing the lungs with fluids and causing deaths. The severity of the virus forced social distancing upon all, and Kenyon was not an exception; everyone who could leave must go, and all those who stayed on campus could not get closer than six feet, said an all-student email landed in her inbox, a college student soon to graduate.]

I went to say goodbye to some friends who have made my days here so happy. “We are flying away tomorrow.” They said. “I am risking my life here saying goodbye.” I joked. I wish I had appreciated the school moments better. The long lines at Peirce, the bad jokes from my friends, the deep conversations during seminars and sleepy moments in Ascension, that professor’s quirk of throwing markers, the warmth from the Squash ball in my hand, or just the sight of someone rushing to class biting into an apple… All of it. “Surely those moments would repeat for another six weeks.” I had thought. Then the fear came without a warning and there was no time to get prepared. All of it disappeared, so easily, like the morning mist on Middle Path. I reached out my hand and only grabbed the memories.

[The full name of the virus scares her: SARS-CoV-2 virus. She still remembers the talks about the outbreak in 2002, of SARS, which sounded like “kill and die” in Chinese and is still a nightmare for many. But coronavirus is not only related to SARS but also no less transmissible, with a basic reproduction number being around 2-3, meaning one sick person could spread the disease to 2 more. More frightening for her, coronavirus didn’t just start in China like SARS, but in a specific city called Wuhan, where she spent her life before college. In the past she never told of this city to anyone for its invisibility. But now she dares not.]

I call my twin sister and our mom. We never talk about “going back” because there is nothing to go back to. I have always known it, but it never became so tangible to me until people around me were really leaving for their family in this global crisis. “At least I will be with my family.” They said. “Yes that’s great.” I responded. Then I waited to call my family again. A small family, tight, strong, being held together for four years through a group chat named “Home Sweet Home,” but troubled by countless misinterpreted messages and untimely replies. During the nights when I wake up with the fading memory of my mom’s pancakes or the real voice of my sister, I stare into the darkness and realize even darkness can look blurred.

[Why Wuhan, she asked, and why now? Indeed, coronavirus, having existed for millions of years, was not new. But now, it is forcing humans to turn a new page in history. No one knew that a few bats from this nameless city could help breed a global pandemic, until phylogenetic analysis suggested close similarity between bat coronavirus and the Covid-19 strain. High human population density and mobility as well as new disease ecology due to climate change all give wings to this ancient virus. When will it end? Everyone prays but no one knows.]

I think about this path that I walked on. Four years ago, I left China for the first time and arrived in the U.S. with one medium-sized purple suitcase. Then I started a new life here. I met professors I truly trust, had friends I love, and discovered things I dearly cherish. But the ending came so fast and I was forced to plan my exit from college in a time of ever more insecurity and less company. I thought four years in a foreign country had hardened me, and that I had grown from an innocent 18-year-old kid to a mature individual able to control my own emotions. Until I caught myself crying out loud and hard in the woods behind my dorm, so lost, so lonely and so confused. Where am I going? Why do I fear so much? Who will be there for me? Where is my strength? Why am I like this? Again and again I ask myself as the tears soak my sleeves.

[New York ordered mobile refrigeration units, she read on the news, and Wuhan is reopening its stores.]

They say that the answer is blowing in the wind. So I try to stand still as the wind disturbs my hair.