Dearest Daughters,
Well, here we are. Here I am. And every thing's fine.
There was a short-period when I seriously, intensely, viscerally, for reals believed with every fiber of my being that I would never ever ever ever in a million years be able to go out in public without having a panic attack, let alone out in public with both of you and no other adult supervision.
And, looky here:
Starting our hike at Lake Chabot Regional Park.
Snack break. About two minutes in to the hike.
"Mommy, take a picture of me with this big rock!"
Dear God, please don't let DJ fall into the lake while I take this picture? Amen.
Roots. [Insert symbolism and/or analogies here.]
Errrybody say: hiking!
Lake Chabot, boat, island. Communing with nature, expressing thanks for all that we saw and felt; doctor's orders!
Someone's little legs got tired, so I became a double-sided mommy pack mule.
The top of the "mountain." Time to turn around.
And a stop at the snack shack for Cheetos (Bel's choice). A balanced life, right? Nah. They're just a yummy treat. (To my credit, I have never before this moment purchased Cheetos for you girls.)
Racing back to the car after a lovely hike!
In the midst of my anxiety and depression, many of our readers, friends and family, assured me that healing and a return to normalcy (whatever that is!) would come sooner than I could fathom. And they were right! (Lots of love to all you smarty pants!)
And thank goodness.
Love,
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