The pig looked familiar--it's a pig piggy bank, about 4 inched high, light blue with yellow swirls on it. I sure couldn't see any reason to keep it, but Cheryl reminded me that my mom gave it to me. So I put it on my desk. It's not a pretty pig--I remember now that mom laughed when she gave it to me. And it's heavy with change. This morning I noticed something white though the slot in the pig's back: a folded up piece of paper. So I fished it out. I'm guessing that I was 52 or 53 years old when she wrote the poem for my birthday. (Richards is a health food store where she lived.)
For future reference: don't throw out the pig.
Oh, how sweet! Yes, I would agree...don't throw out the pig!
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