The Collection

When I was a child, I always wanted a hobby, particularly to have a collection. I'd always try one, but always failed after the first or second piece collected. I tried rocks, shells, leaves, flowers, you name it. Probably the most successful collection was about five or six snowglobes collected as souvenirs on trips. But because of the lack of traveling in my family, it didn't get too far. I did have a large collection of ceramic mermaids, but it didn't count since my mother found most of them, or already had them. 

What frustrated me most though was that I didn't have something I was passionate about, something that I loved doing and was a habit in my life. I felt all my friends had one, Coco with her Play Mobiles and My Little Ponies, Zoe with her gigantic collection of music merchandise, Skyler with her plethora of horses. I had Pokemon cards, Beanie Babies, Barbies, but not something I loved and would always keep loving. I felt that a collection of something would be that love. And so I kept trying, and indeed I would always fail, left with a few of each attempted collection.

I placed all my little artifacts around my room, hoping someday maybe a spark within me would reignite a passion to finish that collection. But as the years went on, and more things were piled on shelves and desks, I started to forget my real reason for buying these little things. One day, as I was rearranging the glass figures, trophies and russian dolls, I realized, I had been building up a large collection all along. All these little treasures, each a small part of my childhood, had become a whole a collection of my own. I was ecstatic to say the least. I had snowglobes, small angels, silver figurines, decorated egg shells, Day of the Dead skeleton displays, piggy banks, mini shrines, painted pottery pieces, porcelain mermaids, ceramic lucky cats, small shot glasses, little fairy perfume bottles, Disney toy cars and figurines, stuffed animals, sparkly matchboxes, antique tarot cards, picture frames, jelly jars, miniature clocks, and more.   

Looking at it all brought back the memory of the golden times when I was young, a child looking for myself in a world I considered my own. I had finally found a collection, but one that I was not looking for. It was a collection of me, of who I am and who I was, each a piece of my identity. There was the snowglobe of the Great Wall of China when I went with my father to adopt my baby sister from China. And next to that, an ostrich egg that opens up and reveals a small angel which I found unexpectedly in an antique sale . Above that is the paper mache skeleton smiling under a sombrero, a figurine I purchased on a trip in Mexico. Over there is the softball trophy I won when I was picked as a player in the All Stars team. So many memories all placed next together, like a timeline of my life. When I finally understood my collection, I couldn't be happier. 

I cannot look for pieces to add to my collection. The pieces find me. Each one comes as a mark to remember a special event that took place. It is a lifelong collection, and it will never end until I am no longer living. 

To this day the collection still sits in my room. It is a part of me, my childhood, and I will never part with it.