this is my shell collection. my mom use to collected them too. she filled our home with sea glass and clam shells— something i regretfully regarded as tacky when i was teenager. i spent my childhood by the ocean but we moved to a landlocked state when i was 10. i thought her collections were born of an inability to let go of the past, something i now understand as a means to preserve the connection to it— a gentle reminder.
four years ago she started forgetting things. small things at first, the name of my highschool best friend or where she’d left her keys. eventually, she began to forget my tattoos and how to read. her world is full of gentle reminders now— we do everything we can to help her not forget. the collections help, serving as tangible memory links. i think my own collection was born out of this. i’ll surround her with iridescent mementos if i have to; i want her to remember.
collections aren’t frivolous. sometimes, their meanings are revealed to you as they grow.