I caught sight of him on my way to the cash register to pay for the souvenir key chains I had brought for my family and immediately approached the shelf where he was perched with the other beanbag animals to grab and squeeze his snout with my hand.
It felt like a soft, woolly blanket against my fingertips, and I didn’t hesitate to lift him off the shelf and cradle him in my arms to bring him home with me. He was my San Francisco pig, to remind me of the fact that I had flown six hours on my own for the very first time in my life and enjoyed it.
Continue reading “The San Francisco pig and other gems from my first Cali trip, one year later”
The Fearless Wordsmith 