I have a collection of playing cards.

Not really on purpose.  It’s not something I set out to acquire.

But Robb and I kept finding ourselves out of town, on a jaunt together, without playing cards.  We played out the evenings together with beverages, playlists, and various card games.  So we really needed that last ingredient.

We found ourselves buying them in nearly every town we visited overnight.  We paid bottom-dollar prices at WalMart and top-shelf prices at hotel gift shops.  But we always wanted our cards, and we paid the price over and over again.

I opened one of my travel bags today to find a silver box of playing cards, from a weekend in Silverthorn, Colorado.  We had gone away for a weekend during ‘mud season’: after the mountain’s summer fun has ended, but before the ski season has begun.  It’s a great time to get a good price on a high-altitude hotel room, as few people see much reason to go in October.

And it’s a good thing we saved money on the hotel room, because we spent it all on those blasted cards.  I’m pretty sure we paid something like $16.00 for this embossed deck of cards in its silver case.

But you can bet your sweet bippy: we played cards that evening.  And we drank diet Coke, Kahlua and Creme, and wine.

I liked being with him.  I think he sort of liked hanging out with me, too.

I held the silver box in my hand today.  I hugged the small box, as fiercely as one can hug something so small that holds so much.

And I put it back in my travel bag.  Just in case.

I wouldn’t want to be without a deck of cards.

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