The BF this weekend was ridiculing me for my purchase of some Obama paraphernalia (a deck of cards) as I was destroying him at Canasta. This led me to question my intentions; I am a collector of things, trinkets and memorabilia—and I realized I collect these items to help me remember my own life. This, of course, is ridiculous. 
Even at 25 I have trouble remembering the details of my own life and am bewildered at the prospect of remembering 50 more years. So I collect mile markers. Lots of them. They hold on to my memories so that when I hold on to them I can travel in time through my grandmother’s ceramic chickens, Happy Meal Pokemon, a fish vertebrae Alden’s dad gave me, a pictograph Meg drew our freshman year, an envelope Chris sent from China, my grandpa’s Union Pacific Railroad tiepin, state magnets from my dad’s trucking routes, hundreds of playbills, jackalopes galore and pictures…always pictures……
These trinkets are my portkeys, or at least my best attempt so far at magic.
