Walk Me Out On The Moonlit Beach Today

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Grandma was a heroine of the ocean. She lived in a tiny house three miles from the sea.

Of all the stories Mom told me, my favourite is about Grandma and Betsy, the last wild manta ray. Mom would always bring out the photograph showing Grandma swimming with Betsy in an ocean filled with plastic waste. It was a miracle that Betsy had survived as long as she did, so Grandma helped rescue her. Betsy lived out the rest of her years at an ocean park in Okinawa. Sadly, Betsy and the other older female mantas were all sterile, so she ended up being the last of her species.

For that reason and many others, Grandma's time was called the Generation of Lasts. The last manta ray. The last two sperm whales, found beached with bellies full of plastic. The last of too many things.

After Mom was born, a freak hurricane hit the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. It was the equivalent of throwing a chemical bomb into an aquarium. Except that the aquarium was the world's oceans, and the bomb was a floating island of plastic waste half the size of North America, that had been soaking up toxic waste for decades.

That event accelerated a process that had been ongoing for years. Within a decade, all ocean and ocean-dependent life died out. From plankton to penguins, from sardines to sharks, no species survived. Even seaweed and coral eventually perished.

With the death of the oceans, came the death of many industries. Millions of jobs were lost, millions more starved, while the rich bid millions on the last few remaining cans of tuna on Earth. Riots and crime ran rampant, poverty rates rose. In the wake of the spreading ripple effect, entire economies and countries crashed.

With the death of the oceans, came accelerated climate change. Temperatures rose, rain and drought occurred in extremes, while hurricanes became even stronger, more unpredictable. Floods and landslides increased, both in frequency and scale. It was as if the weather had gone mad.

Many land-based flora and fauna died out. Even crops and livestock were affected, causing a second, larger wave of poverty and starvation.

Sea levels increased almost overnight. Towns and cities found themselves permanently flooded. Mass evacuations took place, because the sea water itself was toxic. Prolonged contact caused all manner of diseases and sickness, and eventually, death.

Oxygen levels dropped, rendering high-elevation areas no longer habitable. Living on a mountain isn't sustainable when you need an oxygen tank with you at all times. Humanity was suffering what so many other species had experienced before -- a dwindling habitat.

As I sit here in Grandma's home, three feet from the sea, I wish more of her generation shared her awareness, her drive to save the oceans. Now, it's too late. For the world, and for me.

Soon, for the first and last time, I'm going to try one of Grandma's favourite activities.

A moonlit walk on the beach.

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