Gnocchi con sugo di gamberi rossi. This was the dinner we had on the first night of lockdown – a.k.a., my 40th birthday. We’d had plans to go away for a couple of days and then host a dinner for my friends, but it all had to be canceled. I wasn’t overly bothered; I felt great about my milestone, and that first day of lockdown, we had no idea what was in store. After a brisk morning run, I spent the day taking birthday calls and working on my book. When he came home from the office – this was before “smart working” took hold here in Italy – I looked up from my book long enough to notice that he was busily ricing boiled potatoes into a pot. The next time I looked up, he was tossing gnocchi in a hot pan. I went to bed feeling loved and hopeful for my next decade. The deaths, months of isolation, the loss of my friends’ parents and jobs, my back injury, and Joe Exotic were still to come.