Dubai, March 13 “We are now ready for boarding.”

Had I known that I was boarding a six month long — and counting — plane to Karachi, I would have held my friends a little longer and much tighter, I would have had another another acai bowl with extra peanut butter from the Marketplace and I would have grabbed a loaded bucket of Magnolia’s Banana Pudding before boarding.

How could I have known? Covid-19 was at its teething stage when I got on the plane — "quarantine", "lockdown" and "social distancing" still weren’t part of our vocabulary. My family and I had to evacuate Abu Dhabi within 48 hours, leaving behind a house that didn’t yet know the adaptations of a pandemic. With sparse time for tidying, I had to leave textbooks splayed haphazardly across the room, favourite hoodies tucked away in my cupboard and snacks still secretly stocked in my bedside drawer.

Arriving in Karachi, I swallowed the virus scare like a tiny tablet. I got busy living with 16 kids, making home-cooked meals and finding the best WiFi spots and keeping it a secret — at least until everyone eventually finds out and the hunt resumes. That is until my dad returned from the U.K. and tested positive for the virus. The once very distant, swallowable virus had now engulfed my life. It pierced into the little, protective bubble I had created for myself when I boarded that plane on March 13: pop!

My WhatsApp inbox quickly flooded with desi remedies as my dad self-isolated. I channeled my grief, astonishment, shock — and every other emotion I could not recognize — into baking. Whether it was 4 a.m. or 2 p.m., I was pushing out trays of brookies, cloud-bread and pizzas. I thought I was being productive and keeping the children happy. But truly, I was lost, trying to stay afloat in this menacing seastorm.

Photo courtesy of Marium Shahzaib

School was present in the midst of it all. From helping a stressed mother download apps as my little brothers switched to online school, to my grandparents’ childhood stories that gave the entire family goosebumps and doing nothing but making TikToks, every day was a struggle to resist the quicksand that was eager to swallow me whole.

That is when I knew I had to stop myself from slipping away. I woke up and told myself, Marium, this is the new reality. That’s the thing about life, it takes you by surprise and you have to come out the other end stronger, you have to believe — or like me, pretend to believe — in the light at the end of the tunnel.

Photo courtesy of Marium Shahzaib

For the first time, I asked myself what health meant to me. It meant taking the time to think, to smell, to hear, to taste and to feel. Mama taught me her best recipes and I began compiling them. I spent more energy on my food blog, experimenting with healthy living and sharing wellness tips. I went on hour-long, early morning walks with my entire family, discovered waterfalls and hiking trails and shared my love for health and fitness with my younger siblings and cousins.

I learned how to appreciate nature through my eyes instead of a screen. I began journaling and discovered productiveness on a normal day. I learned how to breathe, and finally, after years of faking it, I truly fell in love with yoga. I learned to find comfort in the uncomfortable.

Photo courtesy of Marium Shahzaib

I had days where I stayed in bed with zero energy. Days I only wanted to indulge in desserts and chai. But then, there were days I would go on a 5K run and do a high-intensity interval training session. Days I took care of myself and listened — with all my heart and all my time — to those closest to me.

In this past year, we’ve found ourselves and lost ourselves, found ourselves and lost ourselves again. We’ve had bad days and good days. Whether we read a 100 books, did three online courses or learnt a new language, what matters are the little moments. While Covid-19 has been a dark, grey, gloomy cloud for some of us, maybe, just maybe, we can appreciate the sun smiling down on us.

As I begin junior fall from Pakistan, I miss bumping into friends at the palm trees, I miss library dates where we did zero studying and made an average of three trips to the Library cafe. I miss Abu Dhabi, The Corniche and the home that has been untouched since.

Yet, I am trying to focus on a remote semester with constant distractions that include, but are not limited to, a desi mom bringing fruits between classes, brothers asking for help in their Phonics homework and my dad asking to have breakfast together while I am clearly in class. I will be there for the drama, the breakdowns, the never-ending Zoom calls, the weekly hair-oiling and homemade masks and the home remedies for immunity.

Photo courtesy of Marium Shahzaib

In an unprecedented time that forced a constantly travelling father to stay at home, a brother studying abroad to return, a mom incredibly nervous about technology to become a pro, and a confused 20-year-old to embark on a self-exploration journey, I think I’ve found a path to construct a home within me.