in my sophomore year at the U, I took this film class about cinema in the developing world. Almost none of the films we watched were in English. I was so tired back then. I worked 40 hours a week, played regularly in a band with Billy and Dan, and took 15 credit hours. I would fall asleep on the train even when I felt unsafe. I kept cans of Slimfast and Clam Chowder in my backpack like a hobo.

Sometimes the films come back to me like a dream, or a memory that belongs to someone else, that I've absorbed. A Mexican child drinking warm Coca Cola. An Iranian man crying about his cow. A Vietnamese guy in an abandoned house in the jungle, with a Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway. 

I can't believe how many lives I've lived since then.  The mountains make me feel new. Sobriety makes me feel new. Speckled green eggs and homemade espresso make me feel like a rich lady, and I'm lucky. I'm grateful for all of it.