The tides here swell and spill into the roads, more often now. Houses cling to shore. Most pretend that this is normal because to say goodbye is too hard. But I say goodbye every day as I walk and drive past the waters that I love.
I study the topographic maps. “This Portland neighborhood will be the new peaks island,” I think, as though the change will be gentle. But the sea is a not gentle. Storms will batter the coast and tides will pull the ground from beneath our feet.
We let the low tides trick us. “See,” we say as we kayak out on the waters “the sands are here as they have always been.” And in a far away place, an ice sheet crumbles.
Finalist entry for personal climate stories, 350 Madison’s 2020 #givingtuesday event.
Leave a Reply to V.J. Knutson Cancel reply