Who doesn't collect something?
For some of us, collections are not physical displays of material objects. We collect memories, sensations, emotional scars. We collect slights and hold them dear as grudges. We collect single moments of bliss and hold onto them during those difficult times when we have nothing else to hold on to.
I hold many collections like that. They are probably some of the only collections to which I continually add and that I will always have. True, I do have some book collections that I keep adding to or that I intend to keep (though it'll be a long time before I can pass my Nancy Drew books on to a granddaughter), but most of my physical collections have long since been given up.
Let's see: Fossils and rocks? Threw those away long ago. Barbies? Nope. Pictures of Kirk Cameron and Corey Haim? What was I thinking?
What mattered to me in childhood wasn't what mattered to me in adolescence, I suppose. And what mattered to me in those awkward teenage years has drifted away, as well.
Now? I do collect books by favorite authors. They take up several rows on my bookshelf, but I can't bear to part with them, and I do go back and read them again and again. Several years ago I started a collection of white mini pitchers and basins; I have three. Finding them and buying them just became too much of a chore, I guess.
Yes, it seems that most of my collections are in my head and heart these days. Perhaps that is right; perhaps these are the most important collections to keep.