THE GLIDER
now gone, a life lived at Nora

Outside the kitchen door we sit on the glider.  Early morning coffee in hand.  The first sunlight warms the herb garden with inspiration.  The produce arrives and signals the start of work.  Whites on, wander into the walk-in, take inventory.  We drink more coffee and compromise the menu into being.  Prep lists. The butcher arrives, the saute, the grill, salad, pastry chef, service staff.  Kitchen humming, clock ticking, deadline approaching.  Like a dance service begins.  Orders are called, meats grilled.  Plates expedited out after just the right amount of curation.  The choreography is complicated but is given the finesse of route and practice.  You partner, then part and partner again all night.  Stepping like an elegant square dance through the weeds and back again.  Compliments come and the night ends in success.  Drinks with staff.  Beer, bourbon, and another beer before the next bar.  Sleep, sex, shower.  In the morning the glider is waiting again to greet you with the heady aroma of Holy basil.  More coffee.  Menu, prep, service, Bourbon, repeat.