little collections

I tried to resist.  But you see, it's in my blood.  Collections.  My grandfather had a collection of well over a hundred paperweights.  My grandmother has a million incarnations of birds on plates, in porcelain, and stuffed.  My father collected dragons for a while, then frogs.  And then there is my mother.  She has collections of unicorns, roses, angels, hummingbirds... to name a few.  She loves collections.  If you don't have one, she will find your weakness and start one for you.  It will become her mission to learn what you find cute, lovely, dear, and then it's over. 

When I was around 10 she started up a horse figurine collection for me.  Because, well, I was 10, and 10 year old girls love horses.  But somewhere in my teenage years I resisted, and tried refusing any collections.  Her power proved too strong, and Winnie the Pooh became the collection I could not refuse.  But after that, nothing.  I thought I had escaped.  I thought I was FREE!!  I went to college with no collections.  Anything that even resembled a collection had to be purged, because I was sure it would get out of control immediately.  And so it's been for over a decade now.  Except.  I took a good look around my house the other day.  And sure enough, I have collections.  I have collections EVERYWHERE. 

 Sure, they are little collections, but they are collections.  So here I am.  A collector.  I come by it honestly.