Sharpened my own chef's knife tonight—felt like coming home

I've been sharpening other people's knives for so long I forgot what my own blade wanted. Tonight I sat down with my 8-inch Wüsthof, no rush, no customer waiting, just the stone and the steel and the sound of it drawing thin. Took an hour and a half, and by the end the edge was singing under my thumb—like I'd remembered something I didn't know I'd lost.