Some are ready to go back to normal and others are still hesitant. Is there light at the end of the tunnel? (Illustration by Davide Barco) 

More than anything, Michelle Soon would love to see friends for brunch and give them hugs. Her husband Billy Liang, an ER doctor, longs to bond with his sister’s new baby, cook dinner for friends and jam with the guys in his band.

The San Jose couple may have a special impetus for jumping back into some semblance of a pre-COVID-19 social life: They had to cancel their dream Napa Valley wedding in October and missed seeing loved ones, who had planned to fly in from Asia and out of state.

But Soon and Liang said they’re still going to move slowly when it comes to being with people again, even with everyone they know getting vaccines and Gov. Gavin Newsom saying restaurants, clubs and other gathering spots are on track to fully reopen June 15.

“One of the things my friends and I are talking about is we’re not sure we’re even going to be able see other people again without thinking it’s a little weird,” Soon says. “Normally, when we’d see each other, we’d hug, share food. Now there’s definitely a new normal.”

Michelle Soon and her husband, Bill Liang, pose for a portrait in the backyard of their home, where they had a wedding last October, on April 14, 2021, in San Jose. (Dai Sugano/Bay Area News Group) 

They’re hardly alone. Sociologists and psychologists alike say this social anxiety makes sense: We’ve all lived through a traumatic global event. As a lethal virus raced through the population, we quickly rearranged our lives and adopted new daily habits. We became accustomed to wearing masks in public and not shaking hands — pandemic habits many believe could become new social norms. And we got used to not being with other human beings, as book clubs, parties, proms, first dates, 12-step meetings and holiday celebrations moved online.

Rhydian Fraga, 2, center, plays with balloons next to mother Jessica Mildwurm, right, during a family gathering in San Ramon, Calif., on Sunday, April, 18, 2021. (Randy Vazquez/ Bay Area News Group) 

Right now, people are going through what Yale physician and sociologist Nicholas A. Christakis calls the “immediate post-pandemic period,” which he says will continue at least until vaccines become widely available or we achieve herd immunity.

People are recovering from “the overall clinical, psychological, social and economic shock of the pandemic and the adjustments it required,” Christakis writes in his book “Apollo’s Arrow: The Profound and Enduring Impact of Coronavirus on the Way We Live” (Little, Brown Spark, $29).

“I don’t think there’s ever going to be a normal anymore,” says Toni Rochelle Baker, a Walnut Creek mother of two, who lost a best friend, grandfather and aunt to COVID-19. After her mother got the vaccine, Baker says she finally felt safe spending significant time with her and going to Easter services with her in Oakland.

“It’s not that I’m not praying for normalcy, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon,” Baker says. “We have so many uncertainties about vaccinations and COVID variants. Period.”

Aria Fraga, 8, plays with bubbles during a family gathering in San Ramon, Calif., on Sunday, April, 18, 2021. (Randy Vazquez/ Bay Area News Group) 

Being around people again means facing myriad awkward social situations. We won’t necessarily know who’s vaccinated, whether it’s OK to get close or how to navigate people’s varying ideas about the vaccine or continued mask wearing, as recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Christina Johnson of San Jose said she had to convince her 63-year-old Vietnamese mother, who lives with her, her husband and 1-year-old son, to schedule a vaccine appointment.

“There was so much misinformation out there, especially in the Vietnanese community,” Johnson says, “but once she saw my husband get the vaccine and some of her friends, she felt more comfortable.”

But Johnson has had more “difficult conversations” with relatives who haven’t taken safety as seriously as she does. “We’ve had to turn down a few family parties, or they’ve stopped inviting us on the theory that they think we’re going to say ‘no’ anyway,” she says.

Orinda therapist and author Margie Ryerson has worked with parents who still feel deeply hurt by relatives who wouldn’t wear a mask around their 7-year-old, cancer-stricken daughter. “Everyone is getting vaccines, but they still feel so much hurt and resentment, because there were relatives who thought they were overreacting,” Ryerson says.

Rebecca Mildwurm of San Ramon feels fortunate she’s been able to avoid those conflicts in her family. She could count on her parents being OK with only seeing their grandsons, Elliot, 3, and Leo, 1, through a glass door during the first few months of the pandemic, though her mother, Ruth Mildwurm, says, “I think it was really confusing for Elliot.”

Family members watch as Aria Fraga, 8, left, makes a bubble during a family gathering in San Ramon, Calif., on Sunday, April, 18, 2021. (Randy Vazquez/ Bay Area News Group) 

But Mildwurm, her brother and sister soon formed a family “bubble” that allowed her sons to see her parents and have backyard playdates with cousins. Getting vaccines finally allowed everyone to drop their masks around one another, but Mildwurm still worries about another wave of coronavirus cases when it comes to widening their bubble.

“I think it’s going to be another two years until we get this under control,” she says.

An understandable level of anxiety remains among Ruben Abrica’s neighbors in East Palo Alto. With a significant population of residents who are Black, Latino or essential workers, his town was hard hit by the virus.

“We’re a small community, and everyone knows someone who has been sick and died,” says Abrica, a city council member.  He hopes people will start to feel more comfortable socializing by July 4, but organizers planned a virtual Cinco de Mayo, and the Juneteenth festival will be remote as well.

But teenagers and college students, who are at an age when being with peers is a crucial part of becoming independent, are particularly eager to be with friends again.

“Most people here are ready to get back to a normal life,” says Ellen Maita, of Danville, a freshman at Santa Barbara City College. Classes have been taught online, and she had to quarantine with roommates in Isla Vista when they all caught mild cases of COVID. “We want our college experience back.”

There’s also pent-up desire among many single adults to date again. Emyli Lovz, co-founder of the San Francisco-based matchmaking service emlovz , says  men and women have begun including their vaccine status in their online profiles and foresees many clients will continue to do much more initial vetting via Zoom.

One of Lovz’s clients, 47-year-old Luke, worries that knowing someone’s vaccine status could give people a false sense of security about rushing back into intimate encounters. The San Francisco resident, who asked that his full name not be used to protect his privacy, also wonders if COVID has permanently altered expectations around dating.

Luke went on a lot of “socially distanced walking dates” during the pandemic. And just as in a “Jane Austen novel,” he says, it took much longer to hold hands or make a physical connection.

“But once that happened, it was always gas on fire,” Luke says. People would suddenly spend all their free time together. By the third date, they’d feel they already needed to have “the talk” about exclusivity.

As hard as lockdowns have been, many people said their efforts to adapt prompted them to touch base with friends and family more than usual and to connect in new and meaningful ways.

Soon and Liang ended up having their dream wedding — in their backyard with immediate family. They worked with an entertainment company to livestream the ceremony and chat with friends and family via Zoom. And they said their wedding took on added meaning because they had to focus on what was really important.

“I have always wanted a small wedding,” Soon says. “It would have been nice to have a few friends, but we also felt it was important to keep everyone safe. Seeing everyone on Zoom, we still felt the love and connected in a way.”

Michelle Soon and Billy Liang had to had to cancel their dream Napa Valley wedding in October and ended up holding it in their backyard with immediate family. They worked with an entertainment company to livestream the ceremony and chat with friends and family via Zoom. (Photo by Geoff Bardot/ The Goodness) 

Before Newsom announced that California’s economy could reopen June 15, planning for summer gatherings continued to be scaled down, says Sue Doyle, co-owner of Denon and Doyle, the entertainment company Soon and Liang hired for their wedding. But requests for livestreaming for bar and bat mitzvahs and funerals grew.

“I don’t think the livestreaming is going to go away,” Doyle says.

Indeed, Benicia writer Sheri Hoffmann says she attended several “stunning” memorials on Zoom, where people from all over the world, who probably wouldn’t have attended in pre-COVID times, shared testimonials or joined smaller chat rooms to say hello. “It was different than being in person,” she says, “but it was just as rich.”