Chipped beef on toast served with a side of Tater Tots, black coffee and tomato juice.
I placed that breakfast order at a local cafe March 15, 2020. How can I remember the date for such a breakfast? Because that meal with my wife and parents was the last time I dined inside a restaurant.
Later that Sunday, I attended a neighbor’s open house. We abstained from hugs but I remember being more concerned about the comingling of vegan and nonvegan potluck offerings on the table than germs.
Since that afternoon, I haven’t been inside another person’s home for longer than 10 minutes and always wearing a face mask.
There was so much we didn’t know or comprehend a year ago, in the days before we could recite the definitions for coronavirus, pandemic, vaccine efficacy, herd immunity and variants.
The last time I shopped inside a supermarket — March 27, 2020 — I remember turning away from people crowded in the freezer aisle and holding my breath in the checkout lane.
In a mid-march 2020 column headlined “Sunny, hot and keep your distance,” I naively wrote: “I’ll probably continue to avoid crowds — given the cancellations taking place, I might not have a choice.”
I also optimistically wrote, “On the sunny side, there’s no reason to avoid long walks in the neighborhood, hikes in our nature preserves and late afternoons on the beach, where I can catch the Gulf breeze and soak up the sun’s rays to boost my melatonin and Vitamin D.
“Blue skies and sunny days lie ahead.”
The past year brought such loss and hardship but, through it all, there were many blue skies and sunny days.
So I ramped up my strolls around the block to milelong walks around the neighborhood five times a day.
I bought a kite to fly from the Palma Sola Causeway.
I played croquet — a perfect game for social distancing — with my parents in the park near their condo in Madeira Beach.
I masked up as needed to hike through Perico, Neal and Robinson preserves and went birdwatching at the Audubon Society’s sanctuaries.
I walked on Gulf beaches and on the boards of bayside piers.
Gardening in the area outside my kitchen window occupied time and several nurseries became Saturday morning destinations.
Bicycling became even more exhilarating — a way to go, go, go without concern for crowds or invasions of my space.
I took occasional drives for Florida daytrips — to picnic by the Atlantic Ocean in Eatonville and read a book in the shade at Bok Tower Gardens in Lake Wales.
Some days were spent strolling around St. Petersburg and Tampa, looking at murals, learning new neighborhoods and lunching outside a food truck.
The new St. Petersburg Pier, until the heady tourist season arrived, became an outdoor oasis.
Getting into the great outdoors didn’t always prove a great time or guarantee safety, particularly at events where promotors made promises they didn’t or couldn’t keep in terms of pandemic precautions.
Still, there were many blue skies, sunny days and good times.
Here’s to many more.