B: Hey, come out here and see what I found!
Me: Oh my, what is it?
B: It’s a pig!
Yesterday, he was digging out roots from the bushes out front. Underneath was a miniature cast iron pig. Later that evening I remembered that it was the same place where the little concrete bird was found last year. I took the bird off the mantel and showed him.
Me: I wrote a piece about the bird I found in the same place.
B: Oh, you wrote an emotional blog thing about the bird?
Me: Yeah, I suppose so.
B: Are you going to write about the pig?
Me: I’ve been thinking about it. I have decided that the meaning behind finding the pig is that I should eat more bacon.
Then, today happened. Out of my closet I pulled out my pink sweater that I hardly ever wear. My boss wore a pink jacket. I saw pink roses in a bouquet at work. At lunch with friends, they ordered dessert called Rose Pana Cotta. One said that it tasted like an old grandma’s perfume. Then I had a bite and said, “That’s it! Yes, it tastes like Rose Milk lotion like my grandma used to wear!” I smiled and said that it felt like my grandma just hugged me.
I always feel better when my grandma visits me. Most of the time, it’s in a dream. Today it was all that pink. I’ll take it whenever I get it.
So, what does the pig have to do with anything? Maybe I’m just thinking about how we choose to find meaning in some things and not others. Maybe it’s about finding rest until one is ready to come out of hiding. Maybe it’s about perseverance in finding treasure in neglected foliage. Maybe it’s just a pig.