The evening sun beats down on my face while my feet sink into the sand. The plastic creaks as I relax into the cheap lawn chair that was found at a garage sale for $1.25, feeling my skin seep through the crevices. I take the condensation-covered drink out of its holder  on the side of the plastic chair and attempt to take a deep sip out of the cup — only to find out that it is empty. My stainless steel straw makes a loud sucking noise in my reusable cup. I dazedly gaze around at the near-empty beach before I end up taking the lid off. I lick my lips, readying them for the best part of my soda purchase. Most people enjoy the drink; I enjoy the ice. 

Ice is simply the greatest natural invention of all time. This fact is non-negotiable. The ranking of ice in its forms is as follows: nugget, snow-cone style, crushed, in a sphere, and finally, cubed.  This fact is also non-negotiable: although the greatest forms of ice appear in man-made and man-froze forms, I also give props to the one and only Mother Nature. By allowing water to freeze into such a decedent form that allows one to cool while on the go, she is a genius. The world would not be the same without it. I carefully, but skillfully shake the remaining ice in the cup into a trail and pour a portion into my mouth. I then follow by crunching down on the frozen particles before swallowing them.. 

I have gone to this beach every day to watch the sun set since I was old enough to leave the house alone. It’s a little far away, but it’s only a 20 minute walk — which is indubitably more worthwhile than driving. Plus, I can bring my twice-loved lawn chair and my ice to keep me company. For the past 15 years, I have sat in the same spot with my soda pop and chair to watch the sunset. 20 steps from the lifeguard post, 13 steps diagonally from the big boulder and 33 steps from the sidewalk. 

It is a stagnant routine, my comfort in a world of chaos. However, many things have changed throughout my time coming to the beach. First, it was the lifeguard’s hours. He used to be on duty from 10-7, but now it’s just 10-4. Next, it was the amount of families that would come. Ever since the big boom in the industry here in town, it's been nothing but babies and mommies and daddies. Last, it was my comfort space itself: the beach. 

The isolation atop the densely-packed sand in my trusty chair was always there to lift a weight off of my shoulders. Whenever I had financial troubles, relationship troubles, work troubles, health troubles —- the beach was there for me. It was a space that enabled my head to clear to allow for a more sophisticated and realistic train of thought, which often led to multiple solutions being proposed in my mind. This was the environment that guided me away from rash decisions (and let the sand mites give me one instead). But… the beach had changed. 

Whenever I walk to my spot now, the water is awfully closer. The sand is more densely packed. There are more people than ever before. The space that used to give me comfort from my troubles, now only gives me unrest. As much as I try to tell the people about it: “the world is ending!” I exclaim, sprawling my troubles with permanent marker on any cardboard I can find from my neighbor’s trash bins in order to reduce the waste that is piling up on our populated beaches. I am an activist. I walk all throughout town, telling anyone who would listen, with my trusty cup in my hand. I tell them that the world is becoming an oven of CO² and that it will come to an end if we do not change our ways now. I try to dumb down my detailed accounts and plans on how even the smallest change in everyday people’s routines can help the environment. I also incessantly approach the mayor and other important townspeople involved in government to tell them the problems in the dire hope that they may bring my ideas and plans to even higher ranges in the government. Although the littlest citizens may make changes, it is the government who can make even the most influential and large companies (who are truly the biggest contributors) implement changes that can make a difference. 

But I am afraid I am not getting my point across. The mommies and daddies shield their babies from the sight of me, ushering them to the point furthest from my range. The mayor laughs at me, with a pitiful smile, and speed walks away, as if he is afraid of the truth. The teens point and laugh, taunting my appearance before even absorbing my ideas, deciding that I am crazy and cannot be trusted. I guess I have let myself go… I neglect washing my hair and taking baths for fear that I will waste the precious water that others take for granted. I spend all of my time on the streets, collecting dirt and pollutants that harm my lungs and cause me to cough and have the hoarse voice of a smoker. My lungs exemplify the atmosphere, my voice an auditory depiction. I am one with the city, me and my cup. 

But as I lay back in my chair, once again in my safe space, one with the earth now and forever, I reflect on my earthly accomplishments: my bachelor’s from Princeton, my PhD from Harvard. My career at the zoo, educating children and their parents of why polar animals are becoming extinct and what they can do to help. My years of activism for the state of the world, for the polar caps and the ice that I love so much. The ice is crashing down as I recount these events due to the people of the world not taking me seriously and trying to save themselves from their impending doom. My cup that fills with change as people feel pity for me, and not my message. “I don’t need pocket change, I need policy change.” I continued to state, with no one seeming to listen. 

But no one listens to ‘The Crazy Earth Lady’.

Yet, now I don’t need to care. Now that I have done all that I can, I will return to my idyllic environment — the beach that I oh so love. I can truly say that I tried my best, and that whatever happens to the state of the world has no toll on the crazy earth lady. I can spend eternity on the beach that I love, with the cup that I love, in the chair that I love, with the ice that I love. I find solace in the fact that the world is headed into one of two favorable states: a comfortable space for life to exist or an Ice Age 2.0. I am lucky to witness either from my paradise. Everything is perfect for me: it is now up to you.