Everything was fine at the dock. Truly, it was quite the production watching the lifts raise the shipping containers from the cargo ships and line them like blocks in rows. After a quick discussion with the overseer at the port and confirming the arrival of our order, I told Patrick I wanted to go home.

I did, and yet I didn’t.

It was summer in Chicago, and the lake beyond the shipping yard was beautiful. The breeze blew my hair in a way that reminded me of ...