I hate surprises. Always have, always will. From the onset of my life, there’s been a lingering dread in my gut whenever the unexpected comes lurking around the corner. Birthday surprises? My mother quickly learned not to attempt them again after she tried once, throwing me a lavish party filled with faces I’d never seen. The shock, the overwhelming unknown, it was all too much. The memory of that day—a jumble of forced smiles and stifled panic—still haunts me. After that, my gifts were ...