I pinched the small pieces of wood close together, like oversized tweezers, the dowels the size of two little wooden chopsticks.  My eyes focused on the thin, peach-painted pig that slipped over the tight ropes attached to the sticks, slowly spinning like a gymnast with a little black smile splashed crossed its face as it spun around. We locked eyes and then we had a laugh.  She had small wrinkles around her eyes, they constricted when we let out our cackles.  It was a kid’s toy but still fun to see it spin around and the tiny craftsmanship was impressive.  I had asked her if she had made these and…