Posted: Sunday, July 1, 2012 4:32:46 AM
Somewhere in Monaco, a small beach situated on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea beckons. The waters are composed of the most incredible blue-green hue; they dance and sparkle, whispering promises of refuge from the merciless summer sun. In lieu of sand, small gray stones lead the way to the watery world beneath the waves.
In this alien, aquatic domain, it is easy to forget the world above: the carefree beachgoers lounging on their towels, the growl of the engine from the occasional passing car, the excited voices of the eager tourists ready to spend the day in Monte Carlo. There is so much to see! Small sea grasses drift gracefully with the passing of each current, while small, silver fish dart around the gray stones that lay placidly on the sea floor. Sunlight penetrates the waves and illuminates certain parts of the sea floor, lending a hazy, dreamlike quality to this otherworldly experience.
The aforementioned description is what I consider my first true encounter with nature, and unfortunately, even my best words cannot do it justice. This moment made me realize that nature is beautiful; it’s glorious and it unfortunately is finite as well. “You don’t realize what you have until it’s gone” is a statement that is cheesy and cliché and thrown around like confetti at a birthday party but we really won’t truly understand the beauty of nature until it disappears forever at the hands of our destruction. Suddenly all those public service announcements about the rate of rainforest decimation and the fact that our grandchildren may not know what a polar bear looks like flood into my brain; it is frightening to know that something that has been such a pivotal aspect of my life may not be around during my descendents’ lifetimes.
Thus, I would like to dedicate this next part of my essay to you, Nature, my oldest friend. You’ve surprised me with presents of smooth, soft layers of snow during winter. You’ve dutifully woken me up in the morning with the chorus of chirping birds. You’ve fought me with thunderstorms and torrential downpours, but ultimately offered your apologies in the form of a rainbow. You’ve tested my patience with humid, muggy, summer days. You’ve enlightened me on the concept of rebirth during the spring and the idea of change during the fall.
But most of all, you’ve been there for me, and I know that whenever I struggle with the hectic lifestyle of a college bound senior, I can always look out the window to your reassuring disposition. As we move further into a technological age, thank you for reminding me that there is a whole world outside our computers and cell phones that waits to be explored.