I've always liked old things, especially old things with history, character and most of all, a story. Coincidentally, I'm now an old thing, a fact I wasn't ready to accept until that status consistently showed up in my mirror every morning. For humans, advanced age means there will be an end, sooner or later. But for things, advanced age just means they're old and getting older.
I'm not a collector of any old thing in particular, although I tried it once. I have an old teapot that belonged to my mother, so I decided that would be my thing - to collect teapots. I found some pretty cool ones, old and new. I'd look at each one of them and think, "That's pretty cool." But then my eyes would land on my mother's teapot.
My mother's teapot would instantly bring the memory of the soggy tea bags she pulled out of the hot water, the smell of the tea as it wafted around the kitchen, the dark brown stains in the bottom of the pot that lingered even after a thorough washing. Oddly, I can't remember drinking any of the tea or even watching her pour the hot, brown liquid into a cup.