???

I have seen so much and convinced myself that I am changed by my experiences. I've had those moments when sitting in the back of an armored vehicle thinking, What the hell am I doing here? or How the hell am I the one to tell this story, when I know so little about, well, everything? or How did I get so lucky, to see so much, while some people never leave their small bubble, here I am in Iraq?
What is it that makes me want to stay when it's so easy to leave? I suppose it's the same reason why any of us continue with our lives, those moments that fill you with great joy or sadness, that you are compelled to stay on the path, or maybe it's more simple than that, perhaps we are just drawn to stay on the path we started on, afraid to get off the treadmill before it stops on its own accord.

So what have I done in my recent travels? I have shaken hands with the Iraqis who dig through the military garbage day after day. Their friendly nature and laughter filled up my stomach with guilt like stones. How is that my job is to write a story and click a camera when someone else is destined to dig through trash for a lifetime? How to set right such wrongs? I could abandon my own life of luxuries? I could be one of those bleeding hearts that act, or I could write this blog? Everything feels like a drop in the bucket? Isn't it easier to just accept that some things like, death, poverty and war are part of humanity, things that are as much a part of us as blood and bones?
So the heap of trash stays in my mind, like a dream, but when I remember the men and their faces I can only remember their smiles, as if they were somehow truly happy.