How did I get here? Rome is deserted and empty and I’m stuck on an air mattress in the guest bedroom of my parents’ house surrounded by boxes of childhood memorabilia and my dad’s winter clothes. Looking at these desolate Roman landmarks on my laptop, I find myself relating to them in ways I never would’ve imagined. We are all disappointed, lonely, and bored. I miss those places, just as they probably miss their visitors. They’re used to days filled with tourists travelling from all over the world, waiting in lines and checking off their bucket lists. Now, we view them longingly from our computers instead.

On my last night in Rome, my friends and I couldn’t bear to stay on campus. We made noble plans to wander around all night and watch the sun rise over the Colosseum, but we soon settled for a trip to our favorite bar and one last drunken walk through the city instead. We stopped at Piazza Navona, the Pantheon, and the Trevi Fountain. We said goodbye to the memories we made there and the ones we never got the chance to make. It was both eerie and breathtaking to see those spaces in such a vulnerable state. Each landmark was bare and quiet, just as we know them to look today. My friends and I walked alone through the streets of Rome together one last time. No tourists, no sunshine, no cameras. As I cried looking in awe at the Trevi fountain’s piercing blue water glistening through the darkness of the night, I felt Rome’s presence hovering over me more than ever before. There was a bittersweet heaviness to it that I couldn’t place. Looking back, I wonder if it was because the city was mourning along with us. Maybe that weight was Rome helping us figure out how to say goodbye.

Yes, it is initially jarring and upsetting to see Rome so empty and barren. It hurts today to feel so far away from where I should be. But I find a strange comfort in seeing those places look just like they did on my last night in Rome. Even in the quiet of the night, Rome stands tall, proud of its history and aware of its beauty. Those buildings are older and wiser than I’ll ever be. They have survived countless acts of terrorism, pandemics, and natural disasters, and still live to tell the tale. That final night taught me a lot about Rome that I had never noticed before. When the tourists head back to their hotels and the moon passes over the eternal city, everything is still there for those that need it. Before then, I had only seen those monuments filled to the brim with people in the daytime. I thought that was when Rome was in its prime. But in the nighttime, everything is just as we left it. Even in complete stillness, Rome has a beautiful story to tell. It is waiting to comfort those looking for clarity or understanding. Rome is not as scared of emptiness as we are. Most of all, it reminds us that after the hush of the night comes the sunshine and the familiarity of a new day. It is hard to see Rome empty now, but that’s how it looks each night when the city goes to sleep anyway. Someday soon, we will all wake up from this fever dream to some sense of returned normalcy. Rome will welcome back its visitors, both the eager tourist and night owl alike, with open arms. Until then, we watch Rome from our bedrooms on our computers, dreaming of what could’ve been and longing for what’s to come.]]>
As a senior at Loyola University Chicago, majoring in advertising, public relations, and history, the COVID 19 pandemic has completely altered my life. While applying for jobs, the opportunities have become much more limited as time has continued. As a student, I am not eligible for the Federal Unemployment Fund, which has left my husband and I scraping for freebies and any food we can grab. I reached out to the department of financial aid at Loyola, and they simply offered me another loan to deepen my debt of over $100,000 that I have already accumulated from Loyola. I can’t afford to take out more money, because my credit score is only at 600 and no one is willing to cosign my loan.

My husband, an immigrant from Mexico, is unable to apply for any assistance due to his immigration status. We are currently in the process of fixing his status to make him a legal citizen, so the very little money we have goes to our attorney. He works in the food industry as a server and is currently on furlough without any pay. As I write this, we have now gone into our 24th day of quarantine. We have not been able to pay rent, and our landlord is pushing payments to the end of our lease, adding an additional $400 to our rent each month we are unable to pay. I am thankful for our health, but I wonder and question the length of our sanity with the piling of bills and unemployment without benefits.

I share this story as a student studying history, acknowledging the importance of stories from those who are voiceless. We all are impacted in our own way, and no one is suffering alone. All I can do is pray that our sisters, brothers, mothers, and fathers will be kept safe in times of such pain and sorrow. As Americans, we are resilient, we are strong, and we will conquer every battle with decisiveness and grit as we take on the invisible enemy.

Chicago Resident]]>