“Firsts” have a way of embedding themselves into your memory. First impressions, first experiences, first meetings. And the more startling the “first” is, the more effectively it wedges itself into your mind.
I was nine years old when I saw my first potbellied pig. It was at a petting zoo in Pennsylvania where our family was visiting some friends. Frankly, I thought the pig with his belly that barely cleared the ground was cute.
But in the same moment that I saw the pig, my dad’s friend spoke up with another first—an expression that I had never heard before: “Only a mother could love that face.”
