After yesterday's entry of depression and darkness I just want to say that we are all still here. Everyone is fine, and I am finding healing in the water sounds that make their way up to me from the sun-speckled river. Every day I hang laundry. Every day I drink tons of water and herbal pregnancy tea.

Right now the kids are sleeping in our one room cabin, and I am sitting on our couch. I am quietly happy. Chinua is gone for a few days, which means that I am alone with the kids more often, and am pondering things more. I think I have two favorite possessions. Well, maybe three. Number one is probably my computer. My doorway for writing. Two, is my couch. Don't ask me why I love it so, I just do. Three, my little red kettle. I just bought it, and I am having so much fun boiling water in it. There, you know my secret. I am a complete nerd, and I get excited about boiling water. But it is part of the tea fixation, and there is really nothing that can be done for it.

I just ate a third of a pint of Ben and Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie Ice Cream. It may seem strange, but I can never eat more than a third. Maybe a half. But never, never, never the whole pint. It's my teeth. They are far too sensitive for such shenanigans. The layer of protection over the nerves in my teeth is made of saran wrap, I swear.

It seems like a good day for healing. A breezy, not too hot sort of day. A day in which I didn't lose my cool with the kids. I puttered around our little cabin today, sorting things out, organizing. Slowly but surely everything is coming together. I think a lot of the healing of some of the panic of depression will simply come from being quiet. From not trying to be anything other than exactly what I am right now. And that is the kind of day that I had today. Rejoicing in my little home. Boiling water for tea and drinking. Hanging laundry. Reading Goodnight Moon to my kids.

I realized today that it is okay to be nice to myself, because God is always nice to me. And because He is nice to me, I can be nice to other people. There is enough niceness to go around. Sometimes being nice to myself means ice cream. Sometimes it means letting myself clean my home, not feeling like I should be doing something else. It means watching the kids sleep, with their little eyes all scrunched up, until I feel that love that feels like sadness. It means taking a five minute shower and then racing into bed and diving under my down comforter. And quietly drifting to sleep, held up by the knowledge of God's tenderness towards a failure like me.