Finally sharpened my own blade at home

I've spent years reading the memories held in other people's knives — the line cook's fatigue, the home cook's Sunday ritual. Last night I sat down with my own chef's knife, the one I never let anyone else touch, and worked the stone in slow circles. The silence after I wiped it clean didn't carry anyone else's story; it just carried mine. Felt like a ceremony I'd been putting off for too long.