There was something like spring in the air as I waited in the long line that snaked outside Cashman Field.

The scene conjured memories of the lines that formed early before the Major League spring training games that once attracted overflow crowds of fans and families to the ballpark. For an old sportswriter like me, those games were a highlight of the season.

But on this day the thrill of the grass was replaced by a mix of unease and anticipation as hundreds of masked and socially distanced people checked their smartphones and waited more or less patiently to receive their coronavirus vaccine. It was hard to believe that only one year had passed. It felt like 10.

Uniformed members of the Nevada National Guard were strategically positioned to speed the process, which was slower than normal due to a computer glitch and the large crowd. Federal Emergency Management Agency volunteers were plentiful. Instead of heading into the ballpark, we wound our way into the Cashman convention hall, where our paperwork was processed and the Pfizer vaccine was administered at many tables.

As the moment approached, the anxiety lifted like the end of a rain delay and gave way to relief.

Like Nevada’s own progress against COVID-19, the gains were slow but steady and orderly, give or take a little whining. My jab was administered by a guardsman, whom I thanked repeatedly. After receiving scheduling instructions for a second dose, a few minutes later I was on my way.

Receiving the vaccine left me feeling fortunate and a little guilty. Many thousands of Nevadans have been stricken with the virus and more than 5,000 have died. COVID-19 killed nearly 550,000 Americans in less than a year. It’s hard not to be staggered under the weight of all the misery.

As recently as December, Nevada had the highest per-capita hospitalization rate in the nation. But the signs of spring are present. With increased vaccination and steady mask-wearing and social distancing, the state’s infection rate has dropped to 6 percent. In response, Gov. Steve Sisolak defines cautious optimism as he slowly reopens the economy, telling The Associated Press this past week, “Mark my words: Nevada will be the safest place to have a convention or to come and visit. It will be safe for the tourists; it will be safe for the hotel operators and for employees and their families.”

His balancing act continues even as Texas has gone mask-free and other states are loosening restrictions more quickly.

On Thursday, I returned to Cashman Field on the one-year anniversary of the World Health Organization declaring the coronavirus a pandemic. The line and wait times were much shorter, and the sunlight through clouds felt like a sign.

There I met Patrick Duty as he emerged from the vaccination site after receiving his first shot. He works with the public, and expressed relief not just for himself, but for his ailing mother as well. It’s been a year full of anxiety and uncertainty whether at work or the supermarket, and like most people he was ever-mindful of the possibility of unknowingly bringing the virus home.

“I was really more worried about her,” he said. “She hasn’t left the house in a year.”

Finding optimism has been difficult this past year. When Joyce Reedy and Gordon Chang went looking, they found love.

They stood holding hands like the kids they no longer are, chronologically speaking, after receiving their second shots.

They met on a dating site. About this time last year, he escorted her to Las Vegas from her home in Winston-Salem, North Carolina for what was intended to be a vacation. As the pandemic extended, so did her stay.

“She’s a Nevada resident by luck, rather than design,” Chang said, laughing. They became engaged in November.

For Reedy, the anxiety caused by the pandemic has been mixed with a sense of gratitude.

“We’ve been very fortunate in that regard because we’ve had services available to us, like stores with curb service for shopping and things like that. It’s really helped a lot in terms of getting us through this whole ordeal.”

Like so many, they have missed family gatherings: Weddings, funerals, simple get-togethers with friends. Hugs and handshakes and a kiss on the cheek. If there’s anything we’ve all been reminded of, it’s that normalcy felt pretty good.

On a day there was something like spring, or hope, in the air, it was a good time to also remind myself to never again take such things for granted.

For Reedy, there are fears, but also for Gordon.

“I’d like to see us open up a little bit, but I’m very cautious about that, too, with variants coming onboard,” Reedy said. “I guess my wish is that the variants don’t come over, and we don’t have to get a third shot.”

“Want to know her real wish?” the wisecracker Chang added, laughing once more. “She wants to go home to Winston.”

John L. Smith is an author and longtime columnist. He was born in Henderson and his family’s Nevada roots go back to 1881. His stories have appeared in Time, Readers Digest, The Daily Beast, Reuters, Ruralite and Desert Companion, among others. He also offers weekly commentary on Nevada Public Radio station KNPR. His newest book—a biography of iconic Nevada civil rights and political leader, Joe Neal— “Westside Slugger: Joe Neal’s Lifelong Fight for Social Justice” is published by University of Nevada Press and is available at Amazon.com. Contact him at [email protected]. On Twitter: @jlnevadasmith