Darling Playmate, I have laughed often lately at how we play. We get the giggles in the kitchen. We get silly in the bathroom. We share jokes with each other that other family members would not get, should not get. We have been a thousand places together and shared thousands of experiences and laughs. When we play, we make memories together. Our memories are part of our glue. I am so glad.

It has been frigid in Georgia this winter. Too cold to play? As transplants from the northland, we know we have little about which to complain. This week, the cold brought back memories of a favorite Minnesota day in the Seventies. We were grad students with few pennies. It was a snowy Saturday, with sunshine sparkling. We took a road trip to Red Wing, south on the Mississippi. The heater in our little red Chevy II blew hard against the zero temps outside. We were totally cozy. We visited the pottery, saw the boot factory, and watched Bald Eagles fishing in the scarce open ice where the Chippewa met the big river. We had lunch somewhere, crossed into Wisconsin on one of the little bridges, and returned north via Siren, WI. You and Me.

Yesterday, we went out to play. Sandhill Cranes wintering in Tennessee called our names. The day was sunny; the high temp was 34. We bundled up and headed north. In Birchwood, we boarded an old school bus shuttle to the Hiawassee Wildlife Refuge. Thousands of beautiful birds did their thing while we admired them, held hands, and kept each other warm. We reminisced about our Sandhill times in Florida, Wisconsin, Michigan, Nebraska—Now, that was a frigid trip. I love you, Eddie Bert. Let’s go play again soon. And, let’s never stop laughing.

Love, Sylvia