It's not that we can't enjoy anything while there's suffering going on in the world, obviously, but if in three years' time someone were to post on here that they felt nostalgic for the Israel-Hamas war because it had benefited them and their family somehow, I think people would consider that to be in very poor taste, right?
That said, I do kind of understand what the OP means. There was no 'enjoying the slower pace of life' or 'appreciating the little things' for me - although I was lucky not to have to work and nobody I know died, I hated pretty much every minute of the first lockdown and have been left with lasting mental health issues from it, including psychosis at one point. My overwhelming feeling at the time was pure rage, at the smug twats with their twee 'my little family' posts, the 'your grandparents fought a war, you're just being asked to sit on the couch and watch Netflix' memes, the self-proclaimed introverts with their faux-naive 'but I just don't understaaaaand why other people find isolation so hard, can't they just learn to be happy in their own company?' The next strongest was anxiety - worrying about my parents, losing my job, whether we'd ever go fully back to normal.
But every so often when I'm stressed, I get an involuntary flashback to standing in the kitchen on a blazing sunny day with all the doors and windows open, with a mug of freshly made coffee and the sounds of insects buzzing, the neighbours having barbecues and pressure washing their yards while their kids played outside, and no obligations whatsoever for the foreseeable future. And just for a split second it all feels so overwhelmingly calm and peaceful, and I have a strong feeling of almost like grief that I can't go back to that time, even though I remember the reality and it was nothing like that at all. Hindsight plays strange tricks on us sometimes, I think.