#WhenThisIsOver I Will Start From the End Again
By Sara Sheridan MS ‘20
“The end is where we start from,” is a line from a T.S. Eliot poem that my mom recited to me as a kid, and it’s been tattooed on my left side since the day I turned 18.
Moving to my tiny Harlem apartment last summer, the first person in my family to ever go to grad school, was the apex of every dollar I’ve ever saved, every sleepless night that I spent studying for the next morning’s test, every party that I ditched to stay in and write.
But last month, when people began narrowing their eyes at the sound of a stray cough, and my roommate with asthma started keeping his door shut, and riding my bike felt safer than riding the subway, I knew that I couldn’t afford to wait it out in New York.
If moving to New York signified a beginning, jamming a few bags of clothes and my bike into the trunk of my mom’s car to head home to Philadelphia felt like a Lysol-scrubbed ending.
Sterile. Anticlimactic. Surgical.
Every few days since then, I make a new plan to go back to the city. Just last night, I stood staring at my calendar, pen hovering above the page, when my phone pinged.
NYTimes: Federal guidelines for social distancing will remain in place until April 30, President Trump said, backing away from his plan to end them by Easter.
I crossed out the words “Drive to NYC?” I had inked in for this upcoming weekend.
But when this is over, I’m going back to New York City. I’m going to unload those bags and my bike and ride along the Hudson, from Inwood to Battery Park, the entire length of Manhattan, just like I did when I arrived the first time.
I have a new beginning to build.
