Disappointment is unwrapping a package of underwear on Christmas morning. At least when you’re a kid. When you’re a grown up, disappointment becomes intangible, harder to trace to its source, more like a hollow, reverberating thud. And Christmastime, with all of its twinkle and shine, can make the untraceable emptiness worse because maybe your life does not resemble the front of a Christmas card. Maybe watching George and Mary Bailey and their pixie-faced children prompts you to chuck candy canes at the TV screen because maybe it turned out to be a Wonderful Life for them, but it certainly isn’t turning out that way for you. Perhaps this is your first…