We are currents in motion right now, my love. 
We are at sea, and there is a storm. 
We are the river, but we are also the rocks. 
Simply remove the rocks and the river will flow smoothly. Easy, right? 
But, it’s turbulent now. We’re in-between and in-between isn’t here or there, is it? 
I remind myself: life is always this way. Only, sometimes we flow with it. Sometimes, we dance with it. Other times, it feels more mechanical and awkward. Like a toddler beginning to walk. Like when the training wheels come off, or the house lights come on. 
I'm here, I'm meant to be the captain, but I'm lost in this storm. Maybe I am the storm. 
At night, as you tuck your head just beneath my chin and I begin a storybook about where trains sleep, I remember that nothing lasts. Nothing lasts — including storms, times of transition, or these blink-and-you-miss-them early days of your almost five-year-old life. To be tucked in together like this is the greatest gift on earth. 
So, I vow to move the rocks. And I try not to blink.