I walked into the toyshop, clutching my mother’s hand. I browsed around, admiring the fluffy stuffed animals, brightly colored kites, and shiny plastic jewelry, all the while remembering what my mother had told me earlier, that “I was allowed to look but I couldn’t buy anything” because I already spent my five dollar earlier at the candy store. I spotted a basket on the counter filled with tiny rubber pigs. The old man at the counter saw me admiring them, knelt down beside me, and explained that these were lucky pigs that take away all your worries as long as you keep it close to you. . I showed them to my mom and asked if I could get one; they were only five cents. Insistent on teaching me the value of a dollar, she wouldn’t budge. , I hid my face in my hands and began to cry. I was afraid. If a lucky pig took away my fears, imagine the rest of my life without one. The man at the counter beckonedto me. I walked over, sniffling. He handed me a tiny rubber pig and said, “Keep this little guy safe for me, would you?” My face lit up and I wrapped my arms around him.
I carried my lucky pig everywhere . I even made a leash for it out of pink braided string. I safety pinned it to my pocket and brought it to school. I even fastened it to my pajamas. I went nowhere without it. The few times that I forgot to bring it to school, I had to call my mom and have her bring it in for me. I firmly believed that with the little rubber pig in my pocket, I had nothing to be afraid of. This pig gave me an entirely new attitude. I was confident that each day was going to be good, as long as I had my pig with me, and that if anything went wrong, it would always turn out okay. I saw the bright side of everything. With the pig in my pocket, I had nothing to fearOn a family trip to Maine one summer, I misplaced my pig. I was devastated, and pleaded with my parents to turn the car around so I could look for it. They explained to me that my life would go on just the same, regardless of whether or not I had a miniature rubber pig shoved in my pocket. I begged to differ.
But after a few days, I realized that nothing in my life changed, besides the fact that my pockets were empty. I realized that it wasn’t the pig that was bringing me luck and making each day a good day, it was my attitude. It was my confidence that today was going to be a good day, yes, due to the pig, but I realized that I could carry that same outlook pigless and it would generate the same outcome. My confidence in the lucky pig’s reliability caused me to look on the bright side of every situation. For about three years of my childhood, I firmly believed in pigs. I don’t believe in pigs anymore. I believe in optimism.