Saturday evening at dusk, just after the week's first gargantuan snowstorm had abated, my wife and two kids and I had a magical walk down Connecticut Avenue to eat dinner at our friends' place. Only a handful of cars came by. Dogs were cavorting off-leash. Without engine noises, you could hear the pleasant patter of other pedestrians. People paused to watch the sunset.
Other old-fashioned niceties have emerged, too: impromptu visits from neighbors, meals lingered over because there's no place else to go, an ephemeral sense of community that passes even between strangers on the street. As the accessible world has shrunk, it's also become more pleasant.
I'll be fine if the thaw doesn't come right away.