collection

The collector's need is precisely for excess, for surfeit, for profusion.  It's too much---and it's just enough for me.  Someone who hesitates, who asks, Do I need this?  Is this really necessary? is not a collector.  A collection is always more than necessary.  

--Susan Sontag, The Volcano Lover

Accordingly, I may not have the soul of a true collector because I agonize over my inability to resist the accumulation of things -- as it is in direct conflict with my desire to maintain the ability to travel light.  Still, some of the things that I cannot resist picking up along the way, in no particular order, are:  leaves, shells, rocks, old things, things made by the hands of those who are dear, books, fabric (not that I sew), thoughts and ideas in the form of scribbled pages and photographs, maps, ticket stubs, birthday cards, recipes... the souvenirs of experience and miles. 

This collection spills from closets and shelves and clutters our surfaces and window sills -- fills the basement and garage, and at times is oppressive -- but it is a luxury, to be sure, this accumulation of luck and love.  I wonder, if I had to take only what I could carry, what would it be -- a baby tooth or a lock of hair, a photograph tucked into a bible, a band of gold...

***An oddly coincidental postscript:  As I finished writing this, a late season tornado warning sent us to the basement, but not before Will impulsively gathered the things he needed:  his backpack with a couple of his current favorite toys -- and his trumpet.