Flashbacks during zooms? It happens more often than you think.

I lean against the mesh of my office chair. My pencil is sliding out of my grip and the Cornell notes blur in my field of vision. Another Zoom- how many more can I take? I let the pencil drop from my hand and use it to prop up my drooping head. My eyes drift over to the pictures taped to my wall…

“Do you know what you’re doing? I suspiciously ask. “Of course you ask that now.” Christina jokes as she pours a plastic jug of milk into the half-filled bathtub. I watch Meera happily fling flowers into the opaque tub and swirl them around with a thorny stem. In late February, it’s not exactly swimsuit season. But when you’re challenging your friends to recreate famous Instagram photoshoots, every day is swimsuit season and every bathtub is at risk of being filled with milk and petals. The two lower themselves in first and Tiffany and I instruct them to pose, pretending to be obnoxious photographers (it wasn’t that hard for me). Next, it’s my turn. It’s a fun cycle of “Keep yourself submerged!” “But keep your eyes open!” “Where did that flower go?!” and we laugh until I accidentally inhale milk. It’s Christmas of 2016 and my cousins surprise us by driving from New York to our house the day before. We spend all night in a sugary haze, making mug cakes and binging pg-13 movies! I insist on wearing my hedgehog onesie even though it’s incredibly itchy. The next morning, we gather at the front of the house before heading to the tree. My cousins dress in identical elf costumes. I’m still stubbornly wearing the teal onesie. We smile in the general direction of the phone cameras in confusion as all the parents shout “Look here!” “Look here!” at once.

“Okay, one second! Just freeze right there!” my mom commands the three of us as she fiddles with the camera. I’m dressed as Jake Peralta, Becca as Barbie, and William as Iron Man. As soon as she takes the picture, we dash in different directions. William runs to our backyard play structure and I head to the garage where our neighbors are congregating with plates of pizza and drinks in cozies. I hear a yell from the backyard and my brother is on the ground by the monkey bars. He has a hand over his mouth where he bit it while slipping off the ladder. I run for my dad and 10 minutes later, my grandma accompanies the three of them to the E.R. I set aside my worries and fulfill my promise of taking two neighbors trick or treating around the subdivision. Although now I’m alternating the handle of William’s bucket between both my hands so I can shove at least one in my pocket- little relief from the wind. After the two kids grab a handful each, I repeat the same spiel of “Can I have a piece of candy for my brother? He fell…” A few minutes later, the boy using my phone as a flashlight trips on a sidewalk gap. I’m so happy he’s okay. Sadly, the phone isn’t. An eventful night.

I jolt up when I hear “See you Thursday!” and refocus my gaze away from the photo of me and my siblings on Halloween. I zoned out for half the class but it feels more like years have passed.