Susan LaffertySeveral years ago we attend a conference at the beach. In Thailand. One morning I’m out for a walk as the sun rises.
I stop and gaze at the ocean. The waves roll gently. In and out. Steady.
I’m in the middle of fog and forgetfulness. A strange season of life. Change. Reminders that I’m aging.
Inside and out, I don’t feel like myself.
We cross Bourbon Street to the beat. Jazz filters out of various establishments down the lane and around the corners.
Colorful lights and tunes draw us into the restaurant. Our party of six is ushered up narrow wooden steps to one of several dining rooms on the second floor.
Derrick the waiter greets us. And proceeds to describe the night’s special offerings in smooth, rapid New Orleans speech. We catch some of what he says, guessing at the rest. And look at the extensive menu of Cajun and Creole dishes.
After unhurried perusal, we order.