"Mama, it just isn't fair," she said quietly.
"I know, baby," I replied while hugging her tighter.
Since October, she'd put in so many hours. Xeno was a stubborn pig. He wanted to run everywhere, he pushed and shoved at you trying to get food, and he was just plain difficult. But she put the work in to train him and love him and calm him down. She succeeded, and she was so looking forward to showing him at the San Antonio Livestock Expo.
Just last week, I was very sick and drove her out to the barn where her pig was kept. She took him out and walked him around the field. "Look, mama!" she yelled. I watched from the car as she guided him here and there, around and around the building. I thought to myself how far she had come this year.
Show day came yesterday, and she was excited on the way to the grounds. Things were fine in the morning. We went to get Xeno out of his pen to walk a bit about midday, and he was limping. We all looked at each other in alarm. El Hubbo had me get in and massage his leg. It did not help. He gets in, almost pale, and starts to examine every inch of Xeno's legs. A cracked hoof. There just wasn't anything to be done.
She looked up with worry on her face, and asked, "Can you help him, daddy?". He tried to not let the tears come to his eyes, as he said, "I just don't know, baby."
I took her to the bathroom to change into her show clothes. She got dressed without a word. When she was done, I just pulled her close and said, "I am so sorry baby. Just know that I am so proud of how hard you have worked this year. There isn't anything to be done except to just square up your shoulders and show Xeno the best you can. You have nothing to be ashamed of, this is what is called facing adversity. You can do this, and we'll be right there with you."
"Mama, it just isn't fair."
"I know, baby."
She nodded her head and wiped her eyes, and we went back to the barn. She spent a few final moments with Xeno. Her dad and I took turns trying, and failing, to hold it together. Others came by and expressed their sympathies, and our little show family gathered together.
Finally, the time had come, and her class was called. Her daddy hugged her and told her to just show him like nothing was wrong. She nodded and gathered her brush and pig whip and gently got Xeno up. He limped, and she slowly walked him from his pen down the long stretch of aisle to the show pens. We all followed along quietly and watched as a little girl with no hope did her job anyway.
In she went and waited. Soon, she'd be the last pig in her class waiting to go before the judges. She came down the row, and we could see her crying. Her heart was breaking, and suddenly everyone around us was crying, too.
That brave little girl brought Xeno out in front of the judge and showed him her absolute best. The judge quickly assessed the situation, and gave her a fair judging. We saw him pat her on the back and spend several more seconds than you would think he would spend on a lame pig. He helped her take the pig through to the second judge, and he did the same. Folks can say what they will about those judges, but in that moment there were two very grateful parents watching from the stands. As they sent her down the aisle to the truck, she had to walk past the kids whose pigs had been penned and were waiting for placing, past the families and friends of those kids, and she did it. Her shoulders were square, even with the tears streaming down her face.
We met her on the other side, Xeno had gone on to be loaded on the truck. The three of us broke down and just held on to one another for a few moments.
But then, it was time to go back to the pens. Eyes were wiped, and noses were blown. Another young man in our stock show family would have the last pig to show of the day. It was time to lend our support to him.
"What now, mama?"
"Well, we look forward, baby. We have Houston in a few weeks. There is no sense in dwelling over what we can't control. You've got pigs at home you still have to get ready."
She sighed heavily. She seemed to grow a bit older, maybe a bit wiser about life, right in front of my eyes. "Ok, but, Mama, it just isn't fair."
"I know, baby."
"I know, baby," I replied while hugging her tighter.
Since October, she'd put in so many hours. Xeno was a stubborn pig. He wanted to run everywhere, he pushed and shoved at you trying to get food, and he was just plain difficult. But she put the work in to train him and love him and calm him down. She succeeded, and she was so looking forward to showing him at the San Antonio Livestock Expo.
Just last week, I was very sick and drove her out to the barn where her pig was kept. She took him out and walked him around the field. "Look, mama!" she yelled. I watched from the car as she guided him here and there, around and around the building. I thought to myself how far she had come this year.
Show day came yesterday, and she was excited on the way to the grounds. Things were fine in the morning. We went to get Xeno out of his pen to walk a bit about midday, and he was limping. We all looked at each other in alarm. El Hubbo had me get in and massage his leg. It did not help. He gets in, almost pale, and starts to examine every inch of Xeno's legs. A cracked hoof. There just wasn't anything to be done.
She looked up with worry on her face, and asked, "Can you help him, daddy?". He tried to not let the tears come to his eyes, as he said, "I just don't know, baby."
I took her to the bathroom to change into her show clothes. She got dressed without a word. When she was done, I just pulled her close and said, "I am so sorry baby. Just know that I am so proud of how hard you have worked this year. There isn't anything to be done except to just square up your shoulders and show Xeno the best you can. You have nothing to be ashamed of, this is what is called facing adversity. You can do this, and we'll be right there with you."
"Mama, it just isn't fair."
"I know, baby."
She nodded her head and wiped her eyes, and we went back to the barn. She spent a few final moments with Xeno. Her dad and I took turns trying, and failing, to hold it together. Others came by and expressed their sympathies, and our little show family gathered together.
Finally, the time had come, and her class was called. Her daddy hugged her and told her to just show him like nothing was wrong. She nodded and gathered her brush and pig whip and gently got Xeno up. He limped, and she slowly walked him from his pen down the long stretch of aisle to the show pens. We all followed along quietly and watched as a little girl with no hope did her job anyway.
In she went and waited. Soon, she'd be the last pig in her class waiting to go before the judges. She came down the row, and we could see her crying. Her heart was breaking, and suddenly everyone around us was crying, too.
That brave little girl brought Xeno out in front of the judge and showed him her absolute best. The judge quickly assessed the situation, and gave her a fair judging. We saw him pat her on the back and spend several more seconds than you would think he would spend on a lame pig. He helped her take the pig through to the second judge, and he did the same. Folks can say what they will about those judges, but in that moment there were two very grateful parents watching from the stands. As they sent her down the aisle to the truck, she had to walk past the kids whose pigs had been penned and were waiting for placing, past the families and friends of those kids, and she did it. Her shoulders were square, even with the tears streaming down her face.
We met her on the other side, Xeno had gone on to be loaded on the truck. The three of us broke down and just held on to one another for a few moments.
But then, it was time to go back to the pens. Eyes were wiped, and noses were blown. Another young man in our stock show family would have the last pig to show of the day. It was time to lend our support to him.
"What now, mama?"
"Well, we look forward, baby. We have Houston in a few weeks. There is no sense in dwelling over what we can't control. You've got pigs at home you still have to get ready."
She sighed heavily. She seemed to grow a bit older, maybe a bit wiser about life, right in front of my eyes. "Ok, but, Mama, it just isn't fair."
"I know, baby."
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