What is here when there is nothing wrong?
It was Friday night and way past bedtime. The room was warm and my daughter still full of energy when I needed her asleep. I had somewhere to be but she had other plans. I noticed myself tensing, rushing her towards sleep in my mind, wanting the moment to be over so the next one could begin. Then I caught it, and I asked myself the question I keep coming back to whenever I feel this way. What is here when there is nothing wrong? The story dropped, and there was nothing left to fix, nothing…