Blossom

There are times when I feel like a squash blossom. 

They are bright and can offer fruit, but they don't last forever. They go limp and die quickly.

I wonder at times if the winter in my heart is done. The winter that has lasted for eight long years.

The joy I used to have in doing things for my loved ones seems to be returning.

I have cleaned spaces left neglected.

I have baked muffins on several occasions.

I folded laundry.

I did so with willingness, and love.

Then, there are days when I wonder if I will shrivel up and melt away.

The tears last Thursday felt like that. They ran hot and pasty down my cheek.

I feel them on the brink even now. 

There is a difference though. 

The tears are hot, like rain that falls after a long dry spell. 

My heart is not shriveled, but nor is it always fruitful. 

Sort of like a squash blossom.