Served with Mashed Potatoes Trista Hurley-Waxali
He was so big we couldn’t join him in the teacup ride. It’s a popular ride at the carnival so I watched as kids waited patiently for the ride to finish and for the extra cup to become vacant. Lira didn’t have to worry about buying extra tickets because her father ensured her more than enough to redeem on her ticket card. She told me, “dad didn’t want anyone left out.” She took my hand and his leash towards the roller coaster. The attendant saw him and couldn’t say anything about how there’s a weight restriction. He started telling people how they would have to wait for the next trip to lighten the load and secure the loop. Lira didn’t seem phased by the request but rather sad that the attendant placed him in a car near the end. I assured her with the promise of seeing the photo at the souvenir stand. She liked that idea as we went over the hill. She bought the photo for me as I couldn’t stop laughing at his snout being pushed up by the force. A pig’s body was never designed with aerodynamics in mind. I thanked Lira for the picture before she grabbed my hand angling for the games. I watched as she focused on throwing the ball to curve into the wooden basket. The pig sniffed the ground by her feet. It only took a few throws before she got the technique on how to spin for a win. The attendant said if I landed the next throw that we could get a large toy. I followed her lead and released the ball at the same place. We cheered as she pointed to the cow. Lira shrugged her shoulders, “Maybe it’ll look familiar to him.” I reminded her that a pig raised in a house had no idea about a farm. She laughed and asked if maybe the memory could be passed to him like his tail. She looked at the time and said it was getting close for our ride. She tugged at the leash and the pig followed us to the parking lot driveway. As we waited for her carriage, the pig grazed a small patch of grass. We were both surprised it wasn’t fake and looked at his 13
