When I sprouted the world was hot. After growing into a

sapling I was relocated, dug up from the root. I was

planted by the river by a bright-looking group of young

humans.The world is hotter than it was then, but it has

finally started to cool, after all these years. 

If only they’d acted sooner, they could have prevented so

much trauma. It was too late for many of the birds, beasts,

and bugs. What is lost can never be recovered. Even so,

the world is beginning to heal. The forests hum with life

once more and the river runs clearer and cleaner than it

has in decades.

The young saplings of my cohort are now grown large enough to aid in the recovery. The world is still hot, but signs of improvement abound. The river retreats, the temperature decreases, and the air refreshes, little by little each cycle. I am fortunate to be near the river. Many of my kin struggle to survive, isolated as they are. Our vast network of roots keeps most of us alive, yet those of us near the water have it so much easier.

I’ve watched their world change vastly over these past decades. They once sprayed vile fumes into the air as they went about town. Their factories dumped poison into the river and squandered energy gained by burning the liquids and rocks and gases they found in the ground. The air was thick with fumes, the water toxic. It got worse every year for decades. People fled the devastation, driven north by lack of resources and water. Many came here, hoping to find a way to provide for themselves. When they arrived they found yet more drought and scarcity and relied on the river to meet their needs. But the river was toxic.

It took many, many years for these things to change. They marched in the streets and demanded improvement. They gathered outside the seats of power and refused to let profit dictate their lives. They stood together.

Then, after years of struggle, the world started to heal.