I know your life doesn’t look the same way it did a week ago.

You walked out of school Friday with a feeling of uncertainty, and the likelihood of anything returning to normal anytime soon is scarce. Right now, in this moment, we truly don’t know what the remainder of our senior year will look like. Soon we will, but for now our minds are left to wonder.

I know your heart aches. You may have stepped off of the field, court or track for the last time without even realizing it. You left art unfinished, music not yet sung, performances unable to be performed and competitions emptily prepared for. 

And the burning question: Will we get to walk into our senior prom or across the stage at graduation? 

It’s important for us to recognize that whatever decisions are made, there is no one to blame. We all have one job right now, and that is to slow the spread of the virus. The sacrifices we may have to make are vital to the health and wellbeing of our friends, family and ourselves. We have power. We need to use it well. 

Nonetheless, you have permission to be sad. Cry a little. I know I have. Do not feel like you have to be a radical optimist right now. I don’t have a moral we can all glean from this situation. Maybe there’s not any upsides. Seek out the good, but allow yourself time to mourn. It’s OK if you are having trouble sorting through everything. It’s a lot to digest.

Four years ago we walked through those blue doors filled with uncertainty. Now, we are filled with a similar uncertainty of what’s to come. But amongst all the uncertainty, I am certain of one thing: Maize has made a home for itself in our hearts, and at its center are the people who have molded us into who we are. Nothing can take that away from us. We are fortunate enough to have these opportunities to look forward to in the first place. Maize has already equipped us with everything we need to be good humans, and isn’t that what it comes down to anyways? 

This column is not meant to undermine the hardships and urgency people across the globe are facing, but to comfort you in your own sorrows and ensure you never feel you are enduring them alone. We are a small piece of the bigger picture. 

To my fellow classmates, you are heard. You are loved. Wash your hands for 20 seconds. Stay home. Be good to yourselves and others. Now more than ever, we need each other. Everything will be OK. It just might look a little different than before.