I feel like I'm beginning to lose a friend today. Four years ago, I met Jeff at a local dive bar. We would talk about local politics, harass the farmers about crops, and have an all around good time. He was warm and welcoming and even helped me out with a place to stay while I was between apartments. His only flaw, though, is that he would get a little carried away with the whiskey. It wasn't like he was violent or vulgar, it's just that he would seem lost and confused, like he didn't remember who he was.

Today, however, I found him on his seventh glass of whiskey. He said "hi" in his normal, cool uncle tone, and I sat and we talked. "You living in town again?" He asked. I told him I was staying with a relative and we carried on. About five minutes later, he asked "You living in town again?" That bothered me. He was never one to repeat himself, and certainly not within a matter of minutes, but I shrugged it off and said, again, that I was. It wasn't even two minutes this time, when he asked again. I took a closer look at him to make sure he hadn't hit his head. There were no bruises, but his eyes were different. His eyes were somewhere else, far from where we were.

I told him, subtly, that he should go easy on the whiskey. Jeff laughed, but agreed when he saw I wasn't joking. I went to the restroom, but when I returned, he had paid both his and my tab, and left. I know there's no telling him to stop drinking for good, and maybe I should have seen this coming sooner, but it's still sad to see a friend slowly slipping away into oblivion. Oh well. Nothing anybody can do for anybody else but be there and support one another on our long, tiring journey into the unknown.