I have not written in weeks—no time, no energy, no desire until this morning. My first period entered loudly as they always do, most of them slurping Monster for breakfast, and those who do not suck up Starbucks espresso. I have a cup of coffee to match their energy, but today was a little different. Adrien was gone all of last week at the Salinas County Fair and he returned solemn as though he lost his best friend. I get it. Fifteen-year-old Adrien raised a pig and sold it on Sunday. I asked if he said his goodbyes and he started to tear up and then I started to tear up and then the entire class hushed to hear our stories.
Me: I remember our family’s first pig. The night before we sold Brutus (appropriate as we are studying Julius Caesar), I cried. Our children did not cry until after the auction, when the truck pulled up and the pigs were marked with spray paint to determine their final destination, but I cried the night before. It was just as well, since I had serious consoling to do after the auction.
Adrian: (tears in his eyes, but thankfully, not on his cheeks) She was a great pig. I called her Matilda. She ran around, barked, and barked whenever she saw me. I fed her the last meal, and when I turned to walk away, she barked some more. She never did that before. (Now, the tears were on his cheeks.)
Me: I am sorry. I completely understand. Pigs are amazing creatures—so intelligent, certainly much smarter than sheep (hoping to get a smile).
Adrien: Yeah, she knew me. We had great times together. I tattooed her name on my arm so I will always remember her.
Adrian unveiled the scripted, black inked Matilda on his forearm. Priceless.
Okay, time to get to studies like Julius Caesar. I love this class. I am going to miss them. We bonded in the same way Adrian did with his Matilda (not that I should compare a class of sophomores to a pen of pigs—well, maybe). I am going to miss the way we seamlessly move from a sob story to laughter to somber discussion. This seldom happens, but when it happens, it is as indelible as a tattoo on the mind or heart.
Love is Complicated 