When I was little I collected erasers. Not just any ordinary erasers, but really neat erasers that were shaped like animals, shoes, lipstick and people. I would play with my eraser collection for hours like each little rubbery item had a pulse.  I would make up stories, sort them in a special order, and never, ever use them for their actual purpose.

I collected baseball cards and barbies (whom I played with until I was much older than the socially acceptable age to do so).

We collect and sort and organize things to feel comfortable, to make sense of what we see and to find order in the chaos. Collections give us a sense of ownership and pride. They make us feel uncommon.

I now collect things that I can’t hold in my hands; love, acceptance, experiences and time. Sometimes they are overflowing, other times, scarce.

One day I will pass along my eraser collection to my daughters, like my mom did for us with with her tiny plastic knick-knack collection.  I hope to also pass along the magnanimous gifts of my soul collection – that transcend both my small grasp and also this lifetime.

I hope they see how hard I am working on this unique collection. That they are moved by the brightness of what they have inherited over the years and have compassion for the rough edges that are still a work in progress.



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