Slippery, slimy, darting flashes of silver with razor teeth. The promise of joy and magic, shattered to grey disappointment. Expectations, great or otherwise, are the silent insidious thieves of vitality.
The thin line between hope and expectation is another razor – to one side lays a failure to share the magic of anticipation. On the other side lurks only the possibility is pain, blame, and hurt.
Unfortunately, you probably won’t know which side of the line you’re on until it’s too late. You’ve either missed the moment, or the moment has failed to deliver. A rose overblown, or a bud that withers on the vine.
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