In Einstein's equation, time is a river. And as rivers do, it changes course and speed at various turn points, in the day versus the night, on stony banks versus silky river beds or calm sun-soaked days versus windy spring rains. It is, in fact, never constant. And as I watch my baby Love turn from baby to kid, from all mommy to mommy AND the world, I want to stop the river. Damn it up. Bottle it up. Freeze it. Drink it in. Swallow it. Tuck it away. Submerge myself and never come back. In fact, some days, I’d do anything necessary to slow it all down. But then, as I shake the sadness of knowing rivers flow until they meet the sea, I remember that I can slow time. I can bend the waters by surrendering. By noticing. By taking it in. By being in awe. By breathing. By relishing in the joy of all that is this little boy. By sitting in reverent silence. The Special Theory of Relativity is where science and spirit merge. The rate at which time passes and rivers flow depend on my frame of reference.