My husband, Dave, is diagnosed with depression. I, however, am not. This difference, exacerbated by my self-starting oldest-child syndrome, makes Dave's depression nigh inscrutable to me. But we are married, so we have to - we must - figure out how to talk about it. It's been a rugged road, unpaved and pitted with mistakes and upsets. But it is getting better, and it has been good for us. And in the shmita we have come so far. But it is still hard. Heartbreaking. Some moments are still right to the edge of screaming unbearable. But we are fortunate, because those moments are the exception. So much of what we have is summer night scooter rides , and eating dinner together on pine tray tables in the living room, and sharing Youtube videos of cats: bright torches staving off the night. But when the darkness does come with all its weight, it is the tiny graces, pinprick stars on a sable sky, that revive me....