Patting Your Head and Rubbing Your Tummy

Way back in the day, we used to drink by the river. There were lots of other things to do by the river, and we did most of them, but I have particular physical and visual memories of the drinking, perhaps because I was so bad at it. We drank by the river because it was a nice place to drink, dark and away from things and pretty, in the darkness, but also I suspect, because it was near the liquor store where there was always someone to buy liquor for you. We would walk down the street from the liquor store to the river, and then we would walk along the river, on the dirt path, not the paved sidewalk, till we got to a point where the river was further away from the road, and nobody could see us. But the drinking usually started as soon as we turned away from the street, while we were still walking on the path, and therein the problem lay, because I was utterly incapable of drinking while I walked. Whether it was sips of rum followed by sips of Coke, or slugs of Kahlua (ugh!), if I tried to keep up with my companions, who walked and drank and passed the bottle, I would dribble and spill all over my shirt. If I stopped walking to take a drink, they would tease me, which wasn't a big deal, because I thought it was pretty pathetic too, but still, I was always self-conscious about my incapacities.

This morning I stopped at the corner store to get a Mocha Frappucino--the kind in the bottle--to drink on my way to work. I had to stop walking every time I took a sip. Some deficits do not respond to age and experience.