Hot Tea

A friend loudly proclaimed that his favorite drink was whatever was on offer. At parties, he’d circulate and at one moment have a foreign beer, then a domestic Bud, a white wine, or a gin and tonic. This was when I lived on the back side of Boston’s Beacon Hill. It was a sort of working-class ghetto of Folkies, people who worked at the hospital, students, and white-collar workers. During the weekend, there were many parties. More than a few were open if you brought a bottle or a six-pack of beer and behaved.
These parties provided an introduction to gin and tonic, snifters of brandy, good imported beers, and awful rotgut – sometimes in one horrendous evening.
Tom, the friend of broad open preferences, failed to put any checks on his consumption. He was the first to die. Today, I do not know a single friend or acquaintance from those days who is still above ground.

Me? Well, one Thanksgiving, when the kids were tiny, I decided that I didn’t want them growing up with an alcoholic father. So my favorite evening drink is a hot cup of tea.

Daily writing prompt

What is your favorite drink?