eyes like sinking ships

But there are days I am proud of everything I’ve done. Proud of my feet that have crossed Saharan sands, Amazonian soils, and Parisian sidewalks. Proud of my hands that have written life changing words and touched parts of the world I didn’t know existed. There are days I want so much more in life, I want to wake up to a different sunrise each week, I want to taste the salt from sundried sea water on my lips, I want to leave home and stop being afraid. 

But then there are days I think about the two hungry boys who asked me for tiny handfuls of dirham under the hot Moroccan sun. How they live a different life from me. I think about the war-torn walls of Croatia, and how its people have gone through something I am blessed to never have suffered. I think about the empty markets of Senegalese villages, how they have tables full of wooden goods but homes that are starving. 

There are days I want to go back to my roots, now that I have seen how unfamiliar the world can be. I think about how my mom had to flee her own country with just the clothes on her back and a past of poverty. I think about how she looks at me as I graduate from high school - as I get accepted into college - as I leave home to travel the world. I think about how she gave up her own education to feed her family, and how my siblings and I never have to do that.