By the time I finished showing houses late Sunday afternoon, I was exhausted and starving. It had been a busy weekend and I suddenly realized I hadn’t eaten all day. But what did I want?
I felt a gnawing craving inside. It was a familiar craving, but what was it for? Was it for steak? Pizza? Chicken? I genuinely felt confused.
I’ve gone through this odd process a thousand times before. I’m hungry but everything I think of feels wrong. I stopped at a couple of restaurants, thinking they might be what I needed, but each time I stopped, I felt a cold emptiness — because I realized what I needed wasn’t inside.

Going through old relics tells me I’m still same person I used to be
If our assumptions don’t match, we can clash with best intentions
Political action may seize power, but only ideas bring real change
Lucy’s fun afternoon at my office reminds me that work needs play
How could a stranger at sunset possibly know what I had to say?
Need for certainty is an internal tyranny that leads to the wrong path
In the great new culture war over Thanksgiving shopping, I’m neutral
As our heroes grow old and die, it’s a reminder of our mortality