I haven’t been outside in 37 days.

My room is where I spend most of my time in; My family are the only people speak to in real life.

I miss the children’s chatter in the compound.

I miss my friends, and tasting fresh air on my tongue.

I miss school.

They say you don't know what you have till it’s gone.

I’ve never agreed with something more.

…

When the ministry closed all schools, I was among the students cheering in joy. To us, it was like an extended holiday had been announced, where we could eat and sleep and forget about exams.

And it was. At the start. At the beginning.

On the first day, I woke up. Not to a blaring alarm, but naturally. For once, I felt rested, a luxury I rarely experience. A bird chirped cheerfully on my windowsill. I pulled open my curtains, letting golden sunlight flood in, lighting up my room as if it were on fire.

After getting dressed- in comfortable clothes instead of my uniform- I strolled down the stairs, opening my iPad and checking my school app. My Form Tutor had requested a class meeting. I propped my iPad on the kitchen table while I took out a croissant and spread some Nutella over it, then checked my other tasks. My maths teacher had set work, but it looked like every other teacher was still asleep. Well, I wasn’t going to complain. I opened the split screen, the Zoom app on one side, and my maths work on the other. It was so much more practical like this: I could multitask and get my work done quicker and more efficiently this way, all in my own house whilst eating breakfast.

The meeting started as I scribbled down answers to various algebra problems. Some kids were still in their pyjamas, and some were obviously doing something else in the background.

My Tutor asked what we had done so far, as if the majority hadn’t just woken up. I let other students answer, occasionally humming in acknowledgment. This was another great thing about this: I didn’t have to participate. I could get on with my work in peace.

My mum walked into the kitchen, a coffee mug in her hand.

I clicked on the mute button. “’Morning, mama,” I greeted her. “Where’s baba?”

“At work,” she said, filling her mug with water.  

Then my brother, Zayn, walked in. His black hair was dishevelled, and a console was in his hands. “Is breakfast ready?”

“Shouldn't you be doing schoolwork?” Mum asked sharply.

He gave her an innocent look, a glint in his brown eyes. “I am!”

He plopped onto the seat next to me. “Whatcha doin’?”

“School. Haven’t you been set anything?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. A day off isn’t gonna kill me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Uh-huh? Try telling that to mum.”

“I can hear you,” She quipped.

“Sorry, Mama,” Zayn muttered sheepishly.

“One day is fine,” I told her. “Exams are in two months and school’s probably only closed for this week. We should make the most of it.”

Mum just rolled her eyes and told me to finish my work, while Zayn smirked and went back to playing his game.

…

The end of the week came and went, and the days progressed even further. Every day, I expected a message from my school telling us that they would be opening again, but nothing came. The teachers would send us tasks after tasks, keeping us up to speed and reminding us of the upcoming storm of exams. I was happy; I got my work done quickly and spend the rest of the day indulging myself. I motivated and managed myself- better than any teacher standing over me. I was far less stressed than before. Good sleep and relaxation did wonders on anxiety-ridden students.

…

A few days after, Zayn was scrolling through the channels, budging over on the sofa so I could sit down.

“There’s a Detective Conan movie on Spacetoon,” he said. “Wanna watch?”

I grinned. “Would I ever say no?”

He rolled his eyes. “Did you see the letter the school sent?”

 “What letter?”

A smile crept on his face “Nothing important. Just that the exam boards cancelled everything.”

I shot up. “No way.”

“Yes, way,” he confirmed. “All exams.”

“But- but how are they going to grade us?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Not sure. But it’s great, right?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “It is.”

…

I did think it was great at the time. No exams meant I could stop revising, stop worrying, stop stressing. The weight building up on my shoulders fell, and I could finally do fun things without guilt.

But no exams also meant no purpose- something I only realised a few days later. They gave me something to strive towards, and now they were gone. Not just that, but I had been studying for them for two years. It was like I was running a marathon so I could pass the finish line, only to find people waiting for me at the end to say: ‘sorry, not today’.

School didn't stop sending work. In fact, they only became more incessant. Every morning, I forced myself to wake up and check my tasks. The dreaded notifications were like angry bees, buzzing irritatingly and never going away. My teachers kept insisting that we put all our effort into the work and keep studying, but I was losing motivation.

Still, I stayed optimistic. There were a lot of great things about online learning. Rather than having to getting up ungodly hours and sitting through 6 hours of school, I worked at my own pace wherever I wanted. I could take as many breaks as I needed and look up the answers to questions I didn't know. True, there were difficulties: learning was less effective, since I couldn't speak directly to my teachers, and staying at home for days upon days was becoming boring. I looked forward to even the simplest things, like eating in the garden or playing football with Zayn. But it didn’t matter, really. The positives outweighed the negatives.

So, I tried to keep my spirits high.

Despite not seeing my friends.

Despite not leaving my house.

Despite everything happening in the world.

Despite, despite, despite.

It was working.

Until my Mum told me about my dad.

He was a diabetes doctor at Wakra hospital. Until now, he had been taking simple precautions to keep himself safe from the virus, but there was no reason for us to be worried.

But then he moved to the front line of the battle- directly with the infected patients. My mum tried to explain- there were so many people getting the virus, and not enough doctors to treat them- but she may as well have whipped out a handgun and shot me in the chest, because my heart shattered into pieces.

School became pointless after that. I started doing only the basic minimum for any work, and even that felt like a waste of time.

What was the point, when people were suffering from a devastating virus?

What was the point, when people were dying in wars during the pandemic?

What was the point anymore?

…

One morning, I woke up. Not to my Mum switching on the lights, but to the sound of pattering against the window.

I shot up and looked outside, staring in amazement as water trickled down the glass.

It was raining,

After almost months of warm and dry weather, there was rain in the sky, I couldn’t believe it, but it was true.

Rain, rain, rain.

And like that, new hope bloomed in my chest.

…

I haven’t been outside in 38 days.

My room is where I spend most of my time in- I’ve read 11 books there.

My family are the only people speak to in real life. They’re great people, and annoying at times, but I’m lucky to have them in my life.

I miss the children’s chatter in the compound, but at least they’re safe at home.

I miss my friends- but at least I can keep in touch- and tasting fresh air on my tongue, but sitting outside has a similar effect.

I miss school. Home learning is hard. There’re no teachers to explain, or the chance to express doubts. There’s no company of hectic classmates, bringing lessons to life, and Zoom doesn’t feel the same. (Zoom’s developers really benefited from this pandemic.)

But I learn, however slower. I sleep peacefully and dress comfortably. I work at my own pace, eating chocolate while doing assignments.

I’m safe, healthy, and surrounded by family.

They say you don't know what you have till it’s gone.

But when it’s gone, you learn to live without it.