
Disappointment visited me this morning. It crept through the windows of this old Chicago apartment. I was sleeping. It filled the room — the first thing I tasted when I woke. Good morning. It greeted me like a lover would, with ease and intention. It wanted me to know its presence. I embraced disappointment with open arms — like a hug from a familiar face. I didn’t want to run from it. Where did you come from, I thought to myself? What comes of this, I…

