April 1

I realize now that karma doesn't exist. Not that I ever really believed in it, but I’m superstitious, indecisive, irresolute. And I would like it to exist. Things as of late have reached a new and escalated high of horrible. How did things get so messy? I won’t expand.

Aliza, my student, is 6, and the youngest girl in the dorm. Everyday she begs to come home with me, just longing for someone who might look or smell like her parents to hold her during the night. The closest thing to an adult, in which she spends the majority of her time with anyways, I’ve become the default for such a task, and her consistent requests are the opposite of bothersome. She’s wonderful. Yesterday, my mom left in a rush, and I arrived to school late and already overwhelmed. It wasn’t until break time that I sat dazed and disconsolate in the corner of the room, to have Aliza climb up on my lap. It was silent and warm, as the ground began to blur, and Aliza looked at me puzzled, wiping away my tears with her fingertips, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Teacher, you sleepy, why you cry?” I knew she’d empathize, so I whispered my problems in her ear, in my best broken English. Another student, Malin, noticed and started to laugh as she pointed a finger at me, "Teacher, you cry?" she asked in disbelief. Aliza immediately turned around and scowled, “Buhht Mow-itt Malin (shut your mouth)” she yelled along with another string of angry Khmer phrases I didn’t understand. Malin immediately sat down in her seat, the smile faded from her face, replaced instead by an expression of remorse. Aliza leaned in a little closer, maybe to silently ask if I was alright. Right now it might sound silly, but few things feel as deeply comforting and rewarding as having the love and defense of a child. This morning, she made me a small bouquet of jasmine and purple oleander, the stems tied together with plastic hairties. I have so many reasons why I am still here and I am happy for it. Maybe karma does exist, but life still proves to be a foggy mosaic (just in the way that from up close, it is impossible to see the full picture) with unexpected timing.

I'll write about my mom coming to visit soon. It was really nice.