Antiques.

When I was younger, maybe around 10, I was wild about antiques. They were beautiful and scarce, and they were often hidden among dusty junk.

Going to antiques stores was a treasure hunt. Mom and I sometimes raced for the tiny, colored glass bottles. I still have a dark purple bottle barely the size of my palm.

Antiques fed my daydream worlds in which I mostly explored periods that I'd learned through American Girl. My favorite antiques were school books. I was thrilled to find names written inside.

I also liked antique suitcases--I could take strange, dress-up journeys. This past Christmas, my mother gave me a beautiful blue train case. Just looking at it makes me feel imaginative.

I once haggled with a store owner for a pair of soft white gloves with buttons. I'm sure a couple of weeks of allowance was no where near the price label, but I left with the gloves.

When we met, Josh told me that he collected antique school books. I thought he must be lying. But it was true, and it was perfect.

For 20 years or so, I loved the thought of mother-of-pearl opera glasses.