The Journey Ends

I’ve decided to begin at the end. Although I’m not exactly at the end of life, the end of the rope, the end of the line, or in the end times – yet, I am at the end of a career move that, although expected, hasn’t exactly gone as planned.

I owned a catering business for over twenty-two years and was faced with the reality of bone-crushing work and long hours that, while rewarding, brought me to my knees at times. Neither of my kids had an interest in the business, not surprising since they knew all too well that I would be gone by the time they woke up for school and the countless games and recitals that I missed because of the random last-minute 6:00am breakfast for twenty that popped up. Fortunately, an opportunity to sell the business came along, fortunate because there were times that I felt like walking away, and this time, there were no strings attached.

The sale was a welcome moment, one to relish after a chance to refresh until the next job or business opportunity came together. But it never did, or at least hasn’t yet, eight months later. I have my theories as to why, but nonetheless, here I am, at the end before I start a new beginning.

William de Kooning, an abstract expressionist painter whose works spanned from the 1940s and continued on into the late 1980s, said: “I have to change to stay the same.” I, too, feel the need to evolve, to push forward, to feel uncomfortable in a new environment. Instagram, for this moment, fills that space while I’ve taken on the responsibility of cooking dinner almost every night. It might be a stretch to think of cooking at home as a form of artistic expression. But as the camera captures an assembly of raw ingredients being transformed into something beautiful, intriguing, and inviting, the resulting photos reveal a story that satisfies a challenge while encouraging my urge to create. Artistic expression? I guess so.