When I first decided to come to ISH, I feverishly poured over the student blog, seeking any insight I could into what life on the other side of the world in this old mansion would be like.

I was particularly comforted by Katherine’s blog, who spoke in joyful, vivid terms of her time at the house. She recounted one moment where she and her fellow residents were gathered around the piano singing and she felt this moment of pure joy.

I had that moment yesterday, under very different circumstances. A handful of us were out in the garden, soaking up the new spring sunshine. Someone suggested music, and then the Beatles and then we were all singing along to ‘Let it Be’. I smiled and laughed and felt at peace. Then reality hit, and I almost cried.

As you’ve probably heard, the world is shutting down. Everyone is retreating to their home countries to ride out the wave. I’ve had to make the heart-breaking decision to do the same. My final days at ISH were supposed to be a celebration in May. Warm weather, my family visiting me, trips to the Mall to marvel at the colours.

None of that will happen now, but I don’t want my time blogging to end on a similarly sad note. ISH has been the greatest decision I ever made. Mundane things – breakfast, brushing my teeth, going to the grocery store, studying – have been made into incredible memories because of the people around me. Even now, my fellow residents are the ones holding me together and making me smile.

So what will I remember? Not the uncertainty of these last few days.

I’ll remember the walks around the neighbourhood, usually to the local dog park to spy on puppies.

I’ll remember the smell of Sunday dinner cooking at the house and the jokes we would make week in and week out about the menu options that Sunday (“Could it be salmon today?”)

I’ll remember the movie nights, particularly singing along to Mamma Mia or loudly correcting the inaccuracies in National Treasure (“No that’s not where the Washington Monument would be in the background if you drove South-West from the Mall, listen to me, I’m a local.”)

I’ll remember mornings working on the front desk, greeting each person as they left for their day and trying to see if I could remember every name and every place they were heading (“School, embassy, non-profit, embassy, World Bank, embassy.”)

I’ll remember sitting in the Great Hall, sometimes alone and just soaking in the incredibly rich history of the place we are all so privileged to call home.

ISH is an experience I will carry with me for the rest of my life. In these uncertain times I find myself thinking how privileged I was to travel and live abroad and to connect with people from all around the world.

To the ISH staff, I will never forget your generosity and diligent care.

To my fellow ISH residents, you never knew how much you made each day for me better than the previous one. You are family.

To future ISH residents – I hope when you arrive, the world is a little less chaotic. But if things remain uncertain, know that you are in the best possible place. You are home.

I will now interrupt my regular style of blog post (events) to bring you a little snapshot of life at ISH. This month, I am writing about the library – bear with me, I promise this will be as informative and entertaining as my posts about DC events.

The main building of ISH (we have three: Main, Van Slyck and Marpat) houses most of our communal rooms, including the Library. It is my favourite room in the house, and yes that means in my mind it beats out the gorgeous Great Hall, and even the dining hall where you can find good conversation and if you’re lucky, crispy American bacon.

So, why the library?

Well firstly, it’s the books. I am a book worm, a book nerd, a book fiend, whatever title you like. I love the smell of an old bookstore and could spend hours browsing the shelves down at Kramerbooks and Afterwords or Second Story books. Our library has books stacked to the ceilings and then some. It is a treasure trove of memories of residents who have come before and left a piece of themselves behind. Here is just a selection I found from a quick lap of the room: “For Love of Country: The National Heroes of Barbados”; “Treasures from the Kremlin”; “The Complete Plays of William Shakespeare”; “Facts About Alaska”; “The Fangirl’s Guide to the Galaxy”; and “Rival Views on Market Society.” That’s not to mention the John Grisham novels, encyclopedias and almanacs and the myriad of books in languages other than English. I often go looking for the perfect next bedtime reading book but find myself lost in a sea of choices. Sure, I could pick an easy-going romance but perhaps I should educate myself about macroeconomics in South-East Asia?

The library is also the designated movie room. Here we have watched many classics: from Les Miserables and Forrest Gump to using it as an excuse to rediscover our inner child with Hercules and Shrek. On any given day at any given time you will find someone watching sport: American football, basketball, soccer, rugby, the odd boxing match and, of course, the best sport of all – Democratic debates. I am sorely disappointed that I will not be in the House for the Olympics which I am sure will mean the television is never off!

Of course, it’s also a place for a quiet moment. A spot to catch up on your readings, write a blog post, perhaps sneak in a nap on the ridiculously comfortable couches. It’s often the scene of late-night chats over a cup of tea, as residents confide in each other their stresses and failures but also their hopes and dreams.

Every day I walk through the library to and from the way from my room and it makes me smile. It occurs to me that while I still have over three months left in the House, I have already begun to miss it.