That would be mine, and I’ve grown used to grabbing my mask when I see someone pull in my driveway, empty egg cartons in hand. I watch astonished to see the nine-year-old (part of my upstairs family) run out to greet the mailman with his T-shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose. The children are scrupulous about masks.
But now the four of us, along with so many others, have been vaccinated. Our pie-making morning was a coming out party of sorts, albeit a cautious one. There we were, all over 70, a couple on the far side of 75, chattering away as women do, but it felt so fresh. We kept marveling at how