Sasha G., Oakwood High School
Colors of Hope
To the entire world-normal life became a distant, dreamy memory this year. The pandemic is both a physically and mentally deadly poison dripping into our lives. It shifted daily life, abducted people close to us, and changed society as a whole. The virus stole greedily from everyone, and from me it took my ability to go home: to the people, places, and traditions I live for.
My parents came to America from Russia about twenty years ago. However, we have visited our relatives and friends there every summer. Our days together overflowed with the best memories of my 15 years of life. In the countryside, I swam in the winding river with my cousins, rode bikes through the fields stretching to the horizon, picked wildberries, and much more. I ate ice cream the taste of bliss, wandered through welcoming woods, feasted on my grandma’s russian cuisine, and relished campfire parties enveloped in cool darkness. There aren't enough words to encompass the feeling, but my mind always uses the same colors to paint the scene. A golden sunshine yellow, a warm, fiery red, a watery sky blue, a deep juniper green- and a bit of everything in between.
Unfortunately, this year our family did not get to experience our summer across seas. This trip was a diamond in the eyes of my family, but a trifling rock to everyone else. As I was glued with misery and boredom inside my room, I realized how much I missed those carefree times. I had been blithely taking it for granted, and now I perceived the weight of a missing aspect in my life. Like a fragile flower in a storm, I felt torn from my roots.
Torturous days stretched endlessly and worry was still settled inside of everybody. Yet deep down- I knew the choice to be desolate, or to find joy in these circumstances-was mine. So, I spent my days doing what feeds the soul- I created art. My mind and hands drew portraits, always with a diversity of color added. One had bright red poppies, another had a night sky filled with stars. It was an escape to nooks and crannies in my head that held remnants of better times. Whenever I felt myself descending into a void, I would draw using colors pigmented with bittersweet nostalgia.
In addition, I Skype called my grandparents every day. These calls were small rays of light illuminating my path, lifting my spirits- just like my art. We talked about everything as it infused both of us with the strength we needed.
Sometimes life doesn’t follow the intended path we envision. This summer was worlds apart from my usual summers, yet I found a way to keep sailing through rough waters. These conditions not only taught me to be grateful for my family, but to discover beauty in chaos. When a blanket of darkness attempted to engulf my world, I learned that hope persists if you find ways to unveil it.
