
There was a time when I wanted everything.
Unfortunately, this happened to coincide with the exact period of my life when I could afford almost nothing.
I could walk through a store and find seventeen things I desperately thought I needed—shoes, furniture, a better car, a nicer purse (okay, maybe not a purse). These were things I had lived perfectly well without.
Money, it seemed, had excellent taste when I didn’t have any.
Then something rather inconvenient happened: I worked.
And worked.
Eventually, my labor redrew the boundaries. I found myself walking among the exhibits I once admired from the other side of the glass.
And now?
I don’t want them.
Apparently, desire has a credit limit.
Maybe that is what financial success actually looks like. It isn’t having enough money to buy everything; it’s having enough life behind you to realize you don’t need it all.
There are still things I enjoy. Beautiful things. Ridiculous things. Things I will absolutely spend too much money on simply because they bring me joy.
But that old, frantic hunger is gone.
I finally have the means to buy.
My heart, though, plays a different tune.
Take that to the bank.
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