There is something exhilarating about the buzz and noise of an airport. It’s the explorer’s soundtrack. In many ways, it functions as a foreshadowing of what is to come. At least, that’s how I remember it as I boarded flight DI7147 en route to Minneapolis in February.

I was excited to go back to school, to work and to spend time with the people I hold dear on the other side of the pond. But this quickly came to a halt as we all retreated to our homes—the sanctuaries in which we are riding out the wave of COVID-19.

Like other students, I also went to my home to social distance, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is missing. At times, it’s the sound of my dad brewing coffee in the morning or the incoming purr of my cat and his ambitious goals of my undying love in the shape of pets and scratches in the evening.

I keep thinking about nieces and nephews, and I miss discussing the world through their lens of childlike wonder, asking questions that even the most experienced philosopher could ponder for hours. The heavy hitting sound of a mortar and pestle at work as my mom is making a green papaya salad.

These are things that are difficult to replicate, but we can try our best through the use of technology.

FaceTime and Facebook Messenger have become my tools of choice in this time of distancing. Both have been helpful since I moved to Minnesota, but after the outbreak of COVID-19, the person on the screen seems to be a bit further away than they used to be.

Things are not as melancholy and sad as I might portray them to be. They aren’t bad, but the little things I notice always get to me. The distinctive sound of a FaceTime chat waiting to commence has become the new everyday soundtrack, and I don’t mind.

It’s better than not having the option at all.

The conversation might be five minutes or 50 minutes, but for that duration of time, I feel like I am at home, back in Norway drinking coffee with my dad and discussing hockey as if we were a knockoff version of Mike Emrick and Eddie Olczyk.

It’s an unexpected escape from reality and a much-needed break from schoolwork at times. Once the conversation is over and I hang up, the sound dies down and I slowly return to the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I love it here in the U.S. and I long ago claimed this as my second home. I miss the sounds of the TommieMedia newsroom, studio and classroom discussions. I miss the camaraderie of bantering with my friends as they come and visit.

At some point, I hope that everything will be all right and that we all can return to everyday life once again.

I keep my head high, taking things day by day, and I look forward to the day I walk into an airport once again. Hearing the rumbling sound of luggage wheels on tiles, the beeping of scanning airplane tickets and the sound of overpriced coffee being poured as I wait for my turn to board the plane.

Song Johansen can be reached at joha8733@stthomas.edu.