PhD in Yourself

Sometimes — not often — I stop for a moment to ponder.

I sit in the sand or lie in my bed, and I think about the rooster outside my door. The hard, straw mattress beneath my back. My host mother's wide, sincere smile.

I think about the house I grew up in and the garden outside. The sound of the creek across the street and the feel of my cat, Sandy's, fur as I run my hand along her arched back.

I think about fighting with my sister and laughing five minutes later. The feel of the computer keys as I write an e-mail to my parents. The urgent clicks of a story I don't want to lose appearing on the screen.

I think about the words of Obama — our president — in Dreams from my Father, and the stomach-twisting confusion that jolts me as I, a white female, want desperately to understand race from a multi-racial male perspective but know I never can.

I think about countries like Croatia, Lesotho, Guatemala and Sri Lanka. The people there. What they're like, and if I'll ever get to meet them.

I think about "Say" by John Mayer and "Pensando en Tí" by Rakim y Ken.

I think about about Rick in Casablanca. Pam and Jim from The Office. About finding love and bliss. And then losing it.

I think about the taste of a perfectly made PB & J cut into quarters. And then a tall glass of cold milk after licking the left-over cookie dough from the spoon.

I think about my grandpa. And how his eyes laugh.

I think about where I am. Where I could be. Where I'll go. Where I've been.

And after all that. After going from Point A around the world and back again to find Point Y, I think about how interesting life can be.