In 2022, Jason returned to the farm but not in a professional capacity as he had back in 2016. He wasn’t there to orchestrate a lavish meal for fancy people. He wasn’t there to boast and banter with the crew while running the pass. He wasn’t the caricature of an ego maniac chef that so many had come to describe him as either. He wasn’t the same Jason who had been here before and in very profound ways.
While walking up the trail it quickly became clear that the farm had changed too. It was not the same as all those years ago in the same way Jason was not the same. Parts of it that held significance such as the wood burning oven and dining table were now overgrown and reclaimed by the forest. Things like chairs and grill tongs strewn about as if whoever worked the last dinner got too drunk to clean up and promised to come back in the morning to do it. But then years went by and no-one ever came.
We talked about things. Mostly about the milestone of life when you realize everything you believed in is built on shaky ground and you either rebuild or you don’t.
Jason built a fire.
Jason pulled his favorite old chef hat out of his bag. As any good chef’s hat, it was stained and wrinkled and beat to hell.
I pondered if parts of him that used to be significant were also grown over, faded into a memory with little bits and pieces of before littered on the ground.
He paused for a few minutes clearly deep in thought. And placed the hat into the fire. .
The only sounds were the flames whispering and the wood crackling and the light hum of forest dwellers. We left shortly after the last spits and sparks of fire faded into ashes.
THEN & NOW
