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Iusedtolovecollectingpigfigurines(小雕塑)morethananythingelse.Eachonewasspecialinitsownway—thesmoothchinapigsthatcaughtthelightjustrighttheglassonesthatshonelikemorningdewinthesunlight...Theyweren’tjustdecorations;theyweremylittletreasuresthatmademesmilewheneverIlookedatthem.Myfavoritewasatinychinapigwearingaballetdress.
Butsomethinghaschangedovertheyears.Whatstartedasmypersonaljoybecameeveryoneelse’seasygiftidea.Birthdays,Christmases,andevenrandomTuesdays—suddenlyeverygiftIreceivedhadsomethingtodowithpigs.“Youlovepigs,right?”myfriendswouldsaywhilehandingmeyetanotherpig-shapedsaltshakerorpig-printedsocks.MyshelvesbecamecrowdedwithgiftsIwouldhaveneverchosenformyself.Theworstwasapinkpignightlightthatmadescarypatternsonmybedroomwalls.
“Youdidsayyoulikedpigs,”mycousinremindedmewhenIhesitatedbeforeacceptingaparticularlyuglypigfigurinewithcross-eyes.Iforcedasmile,butinsideIwantedtocry.Myspecialcollectionhadturnedintoaburden(负担),amountainofresponsibilitiesinsteadofhappiness.
Onerainyafternoon,Isawthecross-eyedpigfigurinewhilecleaningmybookshelf.Atthatmoment,Iwassuddenlycaughtbyanger—atmycousin,attheendlessstreamofthoughtlessgifts,atmyselfforneversaying“enough”.Itookthefigurineinonehandandmarchedoutside,readytothrowitaway.Butmyhandstoppedinmid-air.WasIreallygoingtothrowawayapieceofsomeone’seffort?
That’swhenanideahitme:thecommunity’syearlyfundraiser(募捐活动)fortheChildren’sHomewascomingup.Standingintherainwiththeuglypigfigurineinmyhand,Irealizedthrowingitawaywouldn’tsolveanything.Instead,Idecidedtogiveit—andalltheotherunwantedpiggifts—anewlife.IcalledtheChildren’sHomeandsuggestedturningmycollectionintofundraise