The muezzin’s call rang out over the masjid speakers, reciting the Islamic kalima, or statement of faith, and my mother grabbed my hand as we separated from my father and brother to answer the call to prayer.
Over the past two weeks, my campus house has had 200 multivitamins, 48 beers, 10 bottles of wine, seven pints of ice cream, four bags of chips, two Monster energy drinks and one gallon of spring water delivered to our doorstep.
On March 11, I sat in my small, dimly-lit apartment watching ESPN as footage came in of health officials sprinting out onto the court of Chesapeake Energy Arena in Oklahoma City, setting off a delay. Minutes earlier there was no official explanation for the delay to the start of Jazz vs.
If there’s one good thing that comes out of this quarantine, it’ll be the little spinach plants my boyfriend Davis and I planted in a garden bed behind his childhood home. A few weeks ago, in a rare haze of productivity, we planned out a summer garden and ordered some seeds.
India is one of the largest and most diverse countries on the planet. During my time there, I did my best to capture the bright colors and vibrant lifestyles of the people who walk the streets, in cities such as New Delhi and Varanasi.
There is nothing like a good romantic comedy to make you reevaluate your love life. Watching any movie with a boy-meets-girl plot results in what my mother calls an “I’m going to die fat, broke and alone” moment, as terrible as that sounds.
When my grandpa passed away over two months ago, one of my friends asked if we were close. I remember responding, “You know in school when you’re asked to write about a person who inspires you? He has always been that person for me.”
On March 25, I boarded a flight from Detroit to Southern California, where I grew up. The airport was eerily empty, the Transportation Security Administration workers wore masks and televisions throughout the terminal were broadcasting the latest fatality numbers of COVID-19.