I hugged my mother-in-law yesterday. It had been three weeks since her second vaccination. It was quick like they said to do. I held my breath. "Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday," I whispered through my mask. The words caught in my throat. "Yes," she laughed, through hers. I'm not really a hugger, but I have to say I've missed them. As of last year, though, a hug could kill you. Pre-2020, that statement would've gotten eye rolls. Now, though, yes, it actually can. Last Easter we passed containers of food to my in-laws through their front door, refusing the invitation to come inside. For Mother's Day we ate takeout grits and eggs on tailgate chairs in their front yard. It was inconvenient but novel. We'll get through this, we thought. We felt we were doing the right thing and took comfort in that. Our motto became WWFD (What Would Fauci Do) . But we're human and it got old. We weren't always perfect with the precautions...