Of All That Is Lost
Katelyn Zawalick
Theater
2019, 2021
Musical Auditions. My heart raced as I sat on the cold tile of the school hallway, the steel purple lockers pressed against my back. The fast-paced lines of “Watch What Happens” ran over and over again in my head. The script paper shook in my grasp as I mouthed the words to the song.
Newsies, my senior musical was my last chance to sing and act in front of a large crowd before I graduated. Theater was always my one true passion.
For this show my heart was set on the role of “Crutchie”, a young physically disabled newsboy who is best friends with the lead, “Jack Kelly”. I had wanted this role since my director had announced we were doing Newsies in April.
“Katie, you’re up.”
I felt my whole body shaking as I stood up from the cold floor where I was camped out. Leaving my script in the hallway, I made my way to the door of the band room where auditions were held, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
I sang my heart out. I felt every word chanted perfectly from my lips. A few weeks later I found out I did get the part of “Crutchie”, one last amazing performance as the character my heart was set on.
2019, 2021
Theater used to be my one true passion, but now I’m not sure if I’m passionate about anything. I can’t find the strength to get out of bed let alone audition for or perform anything. When my high school shut down indefinitely in 2020, Newsies was cancelled shortly after. So many people’s hard work had gone to waste.
It seems that the only way I enjoy theater anymore is curled up in my dark, lonely dorm room, under a heavy blanket, watching the cast of Glee performing their yearly musicals.
I can no longer even listen to the Newsies soundtrack, the pain of having it all ripped away too much to enjoy the music or memories that come with it.
Friends
2019, 2021
Friendsgiving was a term my friend group of thirteen liked to call our annual Thanksgiving get together.
My phone buzzed uncontrollably in my pocket, everyone’s excited words for our yearly celebration lighting up the home screen. Thirteen people made homecooked meals to share and packed their bags to stay overnight at Raven’s house.
This friend group started out as maybe four or five people, but because of how many different extracurricular activities we enjoyed, it slowly started to grow. Everyone was welcome.
As I stepped out of my mom’s car, Raven was already waiting on the porch to help me carry my things inside. Her curly auburn hair flowed over her shoulder as she made her way to the car. The crockpot full of homemade chicken noodle soup was hot in my hands.
Stepping into her house, I could already feel the enthusiasm in the air, even though not everyone was there yet. This celebration was different than any we had had in the past. This time we knew we were a family.
2019, 2021
My phone feels like a graveyard, filled with pictures, videos, and text messages of friendships that are no more. I now only talk to two people from that friend group, one of them being my college roommate and the other being my best friend, Rebekah. Arguments and the pandemic split us all apart. It’s bizarre that the people I once used to see as my family have become strangers. Some I only send a short happy birthday message once a year and others that I no longer even allow to be my friend on social media after the arguments that took place.
For Thanksgiving this year, I’ll be spending it at home alone, probably wrapped up in blankets in my bed, endlessly scrolling through TikTok or Twitter.
Autumn Air
2019, 2021
Autumn was always my favorite season. To me, it was the most amazing time of the year. The weather is cool enough to wear sweaters but not too cold that you have to wear a heavy coat. Halloween was my favorite holiday, not only because it’s socially acceptable to dress up in public, but also because I was a horror fanatic and loved scary movies. But the best thing about this season was the smell.
The leaves crunched under my feet when I took my dogs outside for their nightly walk. The smell of the autumn air always swirled around me; I could smell the faint scent of the bonfire my neighbor was burning. I closed my eyes for a second and let myself breathe in the earthy scents. Out where I was raised, in the countryside, these smells were always the strongest.
2019, 2021
As I stand outside in the Autumn air now, I can no longer smell anything. Months ago, in April, I caught COVID-19 after going to a job interview and have not been able to smell anything since. The air that swirls around me now has no distinct scent; it’s just full of nothingness; full of countless amazing smells but none for me.
I don’t know if or when my sense of smell will come back.
Opie
2019, 2021
Opie was my childhood dog, a fawn-colored English mastiff with the biggest paws you’ll ever see. We took him home when I was in fourth grade on a cold winter night, and he was a part of the family then since.
Opie was always a lazy boy and loved spending his days curled up on our brown suede couch under his warm blankets, especially in autumn when the weather started to get colder. He hated it when his feet were cold.
He loved to lay on my lap when I would sit on the couch he claimed as his own, and even though he was a huge, heavy dog, I would always let him, even if it meant my legs would fall asleep after a little while. I can still remember how soft his fur was and how warm he felt when he would cuddle close to me. Opie was the sweetest and most patient dog that my family ever could have asked for.
2019, 2021
Saying good-bye to a pet is always the hardest good-bye, especially when they’ve been with you for ten years. Sitting on the same couch Opie used to curl up on, I can look up at the shelf next to the TV and see the small wooden box his ashes are held in. The gold placard glued to the side of the box reads, “You’re gone from our lives, but never from our hearts.”
Every weekend that I’m home from school I still sit and stare at the couch he used to lay on, wishing he was still here.
Happiness
2019, 2021
Making my friends smile was always my favorite pastime. Making them happy made me happy. Whether it be by cracking an awkward joke, which was my specialty, or playing a dumb prank. The tender feeling that swelled in my gut and made me feel like everything was going to be okay.
2019, 2021
Happiness. This word seems not to have much meaning now. An abstract feeling I seem to have not genuinely felt in a long time. That tender feeling has not been felt in so long... I’m afraid it might never come back.
Time
2019, 2021
I used to be a person who was always on time. I was always prepared, always had my work done days before it was due. A journal with a carefully filled out
2019, 2021
Days, months, and years have been passing way too fast.
2019, 2021
calendar. Dates of assignments and
2019, 2021
It is becoming hard to keep
2019, 2021
performances for
2019, 2021
track of
2019, 2021
band.
2019, 2021
time.
Katelyn Zawalick is a sophomore communications major. She is the secretary of the Active Minds Club at Cedar Crest. In her free time, she enjoys spending time with her three dogs Daphne, Buttercup, and Titan.