2050

Regret

Friday, September 30th, 2050.

I was walking down the beach with Mom. The ocean breeze swept my cheek and the salty taste of the ocean filled my throat. The sunlight crept to the Earth through the cloud like fingers that desperately tried to touch it, to heal it.

"I used to come here with my dad," Mom said. "He would take us farther into the sea with a boat, and we would see the water underneath. It was blue and clear, just like a beautiful swimming pool. I would see coral reefs and fishes, swaying inside the water with grace, living in the moment."

My eyes focused on the ocean. There was nothing blue, clear, or beautiful about it. It was a soup of things that once belonged in people's garbage can, cooked by neglect and unconscious convenience, peppered with ignorance.

"Later in the afternoon, I would build a sandcastle or draw something on the sand. I would be barefoot and let the soft sand hugged my feet," she smiled as her eyes gazed emptily into the faraway past, a place taken for granted that had become untouchable. "We loved lying down here to sunbathe too."

Lying down here? Gross!

Plastic bags, bottle caps, plastic cups, cigarette butts, and all other waste of people's lives scattered around into a dreadful mosaic that hid the beauty beneath. It was a beauty that only some people before my generation had seen. A beauty that I wished I, my children, and everyone after us could see. A treasure that I wished Mom could see it again.

I raised one foot a bit so I could reach a plastic bag with the tip of my shoe. As I flipped it away, it revealed a clean space of sand. I imagined how the beach would look like if the sand was not covered in plastics.

With my eyes closed, I indulged in the mental images of a clean ocean. I could see myself leisurely lying down on the clean surface of the beach with the sun kissing my skin as the blue ocean spread a few steps away from me, its wave going back and forth cradling me into a daydream. It would be beautiful, just like Mom said.

"I wish I had done something when I saw this," said Mom. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone to show me an image. It was a seahorse with a cotton swab attached on it. Her lips quivered, tears flowed down her eyes, and she whispered, "It was a warning, and I ignored it." Her face now flushed in shame. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

I saw the pain in her eyes. She carried her perpetual regret and anger like the seahorse carried the cotton swab. It was wrong, heartbreaking, and tragic. Even worse, it could have been avoided.