My Cousin Sister 2020 [2027]

But 2020 was the year of perspective .

That notebook became our confessional. It holds the real story of 2020 for us: the anxiety, the hope, the stupid jokes, and the tear stains.

I remember the exact week the government announced the lockdown. I was at my aunt’s house, and the news ticker flashed red. My cousin sister—let’s call her Riya—looked at me from across the dining table. We were both in university then, both suddenly told to come home and stay home.

By October, things started to ease. Curfews lifted. We could go for a walk. But something had shifted permanently. Riya wasn’t just “my cousin sister” anymore.

Here’s to 2021. May we always have a sunset to share.

Late December, 2020

We started a shared journal in June. A cheap spiral notebook we passed back and forth. She’d write a page about how online classes were making her feel dumb. I’d write underneath about how I was scared my parents might get sick. We never talked about those pages out loud. We didn’t have to.

Scattered across two bedrooms, fifty miles apart, yet somehow sitting on the same couch via a laptop screen.