Dear Minnesota

Brrrrr.
How on earth did I forget how cold you were?
I used to say, "Cold is cold."
But no, I just forgot.  Windchill, negative temperatures.
BITING, suck-the-air-out of you, freeze the snot in you, make you cry cold.

I forgot how lonely the cold can be.  The school bus window rattling - frozen unforgiving metal.  Walking in the quiet howl of the wind and the hard crunch of frozen snow.

I forgot about ice-skating rinks, ponds, and flooded baseball fields now frozen and plowed smooth.  About warming houses and the sound of the puck echoing off the boards or the skates scraping and shaving to a halt.

People used to say to me, "that's 'cause your from Minnesota," when I scoffed at the cold.
Or they'd tell me I shouldn't be cold because "you're from Minnesota!"
But my blood isn't any different.
Cold is cold.

I just forgot how to dress.  I forgot about layering.  How vital it was to layer.  How thermals, and down fillings, and Gortex weren't just name brands.  They were necessary.  Along with shovels, ice scrapers, snow-blowers and snow plows.  I forgot about mittens and face masks and big boots that weren't just for style.