Dear You,
I’m writing from a place neither of us could’ve imagined when you first arrived on Marquette’s campus two years ago. Back then, the world felt full of promise—late‑night study sessions, impromptu gatherings in Schroeder Hall, and brisk walks down Wisconsin Avenue under the changing leaves. Your biggest worries revolved around freshman-year exams and finding your favorite coffee spot.
But in your second semester, everything changed. I won’t spoil the exact moment—though you’ll know it when you see the breaking news on FOX6 while munching a microwave meal on your futon. What I can tell you is this: the world will simultaneously be in absolute chaos and utter stillness.
Embrace the Good Times—They Come So Quickly
These opening months of college will be some of your brightest. You’ll meet people who challenge and inspire you, discover classes that stretch your mind in ways you never thought possible, and taste independence in Milwaukee’s quirky diners. Savor that excitement. Take mental snapshots of every animated conversation and every new friendship.
Because soon, your campus routines will be upended in ways no syllabus could predict.
Brace Yourself for the Unexpected
Second-semester freshman year will test you like nothing before. You’ll feel the ground shift beneath you—lectures moving online, social plans evaporating, and a hush settling over once-bustling quads. It won’t be a dramatic Hollywood scene; it will be quiet, like the moment right before a storm breaks. Then, chaos.
Yet within that chaos, you’ll find pockets of stillness—dawn walks along the frozen river, minutes spent journaling by your window, and the hum of your dorm roommate playing soft guitar. In those hushed moments, pray, breathe, and sit with your thoughts. Recognize the privilege of being safe, even as the world reels.
Cultivate Resilience Through Small Habits
In the days that follow, you’ll lean into routines that feel oddly comforting:
- Morning stretches in your living room, arms reaching upward as if to pull the sky closer.
- Daily walks around campus—even if it’s just one lap in the parking lot—so you can peer at sparrows and remember life beyond screens.
- Homemade meals, simple but nourishing, that remind you cooking is both an art and a balm.
These small rituals become anchors, grounding you when your to-do list feels meaningless. Celebrate each one. They will shape you into someone who finds strength in stillness and hope in routine.
Time Will Both Drag and Fly
You’ll feel days stretch endlessly as you wake to the same four walls. Grief and uncertainty will steel you one moment and soften you the next. You’ll wonder if these 15 months are a cruel pause—a chapter you’d rather skip.
But here’s the paradox: the lived experience will feel interminable, yet in hindsight, it will slip by faster than you can say “homecoming.” When life starts humming again—when you return to cramped lecture halls and crowded coffee shops—those suspended months will exist only in your memory.
Don’t Let This Time Be Wasted
You’ll ask yourself: “Was this time lost? Did I accomplish anything meaningful?” You’ll hesitate to say no, because the losses were real—missed graduations, postponed exams, and the ache of distance from loved ones.
But remember: every breath you took during that crisis was a victory. Every Zoom study group, every text check‑in with friends, every hour spent learning a new recipe—those moments count. They weren’t wasted; they were the threads weaving new patterns in the tapestry of your life.
Life Finds Its Way Back
Believe me when I say that one day, you’ll step back onto campus without a mask, hear the buzz of conversation around you, and feel the weight of the world ease. You’ll hug old friends for real, not through a screen. You’ll attend in‑person lectures and rediscover the thrill of turning literal pages.
When that day comes, you’ll look at the dorm room you once called “temporary”—with its mismatched pillows and secondhand futon—and see a testament to your endurance.
Your Greatest Advice to Yourself
So here it is, the one piece of wisdom I wish I could impart directly to your freshman self: Don’t let these months slip through your fingers. Honor the heartbreak and the uncertainty, but also recognize the growth and the resilience. Plant seeds—of habits, of friendships, of inner strength—that will flourish long past the end of any crisis.
When all this is over, you’ll return to the life you love—but changed, enriched by an experience neither of us would have chosen, yet neither of us would erase.
Keep faith in the journey,
Your Future Self
