A reworking of this-I-Believe

There was a certain point in my childhood, where I knew I was different.
At the age of six, my father relocated the family to Singapore. During breaks from school, my parents brought my sister and I to a myriad of countries to give us the kind of experience not many were able to have at our age. This traveling routine piqued my interest in cultures and lifestyles, intriguing me to foreign things. Seeing these different mores and, often enough, hardships, forced me be grateful for everything, knowing that others may not have what I have.
In Cambodia, my family sat sipping at sodas in at a cramped store, where a group of small children laughed and sold postcards. I gave a smile to one of the girls, who modeled smudges of dirt on her smooth face. She returned my gesture, yellowed teeth in the sun, a giggle escaping while she disappeared around the corner. Eventually, my family begrudgingly finished our break, and urged our feet to keep walking around Siam Reap.
Unannounced, a timid hand pulled down on my sleeve and the small girl stood next to me. Her dark brown eyes peered into mine with a nervous yet excited expression. Skittishly, she handed a crumpled and folded piece of paper to me, and with another crooked smile, darted back to selling her postcards. Nonplussed, I carefully unfolded the gridded paper and read:
“HELLO
I give you good lack forever.
My name is NGEA Love from NGEA
NGEA”
I slid the note into my jean pocket, awestruck and taken. My puzzled mind could not piece together how my pathetic smile compelled her to believe I was worth the time to write a painstaking letter. Reality dawned. How hard must her life be for her to equate a smile to such a gift? All in the same moment, my mind felt humbled and appreciative. Only such specific encounters make any excursion worth the trip; the cultures and the people become so much more than what any travel book can tender.
Upon returning to the United States, the abruptness of how ignorant my classmates were of the cultures I had been immersed in for half my life shocked me. I found it bizarre that so many of them had barely left the state; I found it bizarre that so many of them grew wide-eyed with fear at the thought. Too many, to my disappointment, were unaware of anything on the other side of the globe-- the thing to worry about was who had gum, and how long until recess. On account of that observation, I crusade for testing myself, taking those challenges and collecting them like postcards.
Without question, I believe the experiences we face as individuals ultimately cause us to change. I ardently encourage welcoming variation as a challenge to alter for the better. Ask questions, yearn for inspiration, and challenge limits. There have been many roads I have passed up, but so many others that have irrevocably changed my life.