I’ve been in a funk lately. Our pandemic, surreal world is unrecognizable.

It’s like a bad movie, something like All the President’s Men meets Men in Black set in Contagion (have you seen this one?)

Where’s Tommy Lee Jones when you need him? Will? Mr. Redford? Anyone?

With everything topsy-turvy, it reminds me of that last scene in Men in Black where the big alien plays marbles with our precious earth. If there was ever a time to support alien conspiracy theories, 2020 would be it.

All joking aside, and given our current circumstances, clearly we are more vulnerable than we realized. COVID-19 has reverse-metamorphosed us into our cocoons.

From my veiled perspective, I’m forced to focus and appreciate the smallest, used-to-be ordinary things more than ever.

Like dining in a restaurant. I could sure use a robust dinner out with friends with a good jolt of clanging pots and espresso machine whirs about now. I’d welcome long wait lines, full parking garages, and even crippling Bay Area traffic to go.

I pinky swear I’ll never again take for granted the casual chaos of everyday living.

I miss society. I want my wings back.

In California, Ron and I have been hunkered down for the most part since mid-February/early March because of the pandemic. (Ron’s lifelong career in health care informed us of the risks of such a virus, so we sheltered-in-place before the mandates.) But I’m grateful for so much—for so many little things—everyday things that make life wondrous.

Like air conditioning, garden tomatoes, and books.

I’m grateful for airwaves that beam music and movies and Facetime. Seeing my family’s faces and expressions and hearing their voices heal like no other medicine when hugs and get-togethers aren’t possible.

I’m beholden to movies that feed my emotional bank and for music that satiates my soul.

I’m thrilled that silly, but surprisingly poignant shows like Parks and Recreation exist and make me laugh during solo, spare-room workouts. And I’m better off all around at having watched all of Schitt’s Creek.

I’m crazy in love with friends who connect in any way. Electricity and technology enable that, so let’s put those on the gratitude list. And I’m giddy that Ron is my 24/7 pandemic buddy.

I’m in awe of the wildlife that bask in my suburban backyard—all 6,000 square feet of it, which never seemed big enough, but now seems just enough. I now welcome the baby raccoons who romp at 2:16 a.m. on the back lawn illuminated by the porch light that serves as a circus spotlight.

Baby lizards I’ve name Henry and Harry (inspired from the movie Raggedy Man) dart across my path when I get the mail or refresh the bird bath water. They always make me smile.

Heck, at this point, just a butterfly’s fly-by can make my entire day.

Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.”

—Henry Ward Beecher