Maybe it’s too simple. Maybe I need it to be.

Baking cookies yesterday, I rolled out the dough to make the tester. Just the empty space of one heart. And it occurred to me — maybe we all have to do that from time to time — empty it all — give it all — all of our love, to get to where we want to go, to be who we want to be.

There will always be uncertainty. Waiting. Looking through the glass. Did I add enough butter? Too much? Will the shape hold? The minutes tick by slowly and it’s so stupid, but I think of everything I could do to save the dough if the heart falls apart. I’ve made them before to great success. Last week even. Why do I worry? The needlessly excruciating eight minutes pass and the test cookie is just fine. I smile and finish the bake.

It may surprise you when I say I think I’m getting better at the trying not to worry. Trying to replace it with care. And that’s the trick, I suppose. To care, with all of our hearts, not out of worry, but out of love.

The kitchen still has a sweet scent of sugar. I say to the space in my heart, the shape will hold, give it your all, the shape will ever hold.