Dear Future
Generations,
My
name is Julia. I was born and raised all my life in California: one of the many
states of USA, a small part of the Northern American continent. A place near by
the ocean and was always hot and warm and used to never snow. Now, it’s no is no such place.
One
bright morning, I was suddenly aware of the silence in the world. It took me a while to realize what was
missing: the song of birds. Before the slowing, I would wake up when the sun
rose. After a brief war with my alarm clock, I would feel the light sunshine
spill through my curtains and onto my face. And after the ringing of my alarm
faded away, I would hear the chirps of various birds. Oh, how much I miss their
songs! That’s when I remembered this scrapbook that I had kept a long time ago.
Now
that I look at my scrap book, I wish I could have collected more things with
Seth. We began this scrap book together in attempt to preserve the past; to
immortalize it. We often imagined this collection of relics of this world we
knew passing onto the future or even to a visitor from a faraway planet. We
wanted to show what Earth used to be like before the Slowing, what kind of
things were considered ‘normal’ for us.
Seth
and I were enthusiastic about our little project. We had a long list of things
to record and collect. Every day was a scavenger hunt and everything we picked
up felt like a piece of treasure. The last of its kind, the last the world we
once knew. Shelves were quickly filled with our collection of dictionaries with
leaves and flowers inside them. Sleeping, but living eternally within those
pages. As days past, our list got shorter as we ran out of skeletons to collect
and living plants became harder to find. Too many things were already dead by
then that there was nothing more to look for. If I knew what the world would be
like now, I would have taken more pictures and would have collected more things
for the scrap book.
Nevertheless,
I do remember those days I spent with Seth as we filled up this scrap book. The
conversations we had, the way our fingers exchanged the discoveries we made together.
Every moment was precious and it seemed like those memories were pressed within
the pages like the flowers and leaves. Flipping through the pages, I remembered
how much my world had changed even from before the scrap book was made and
during this scrap book was in production. How the days and nights were bright
and dark and how they grew longer and longer. How the first snow in California got
me excited. How the relaxing summer sun turned into hazard radiation and brought
painful sunburns. Most of all, how I got used to seeing death every corner and
how that made me appreciate the things that were now lost.
What
I also came to realize was that I was pretty much doing the same thing as my
grandfather: collecting relics of the past. His entire house was filled with
antiques, keeping everything from old stamps back from Alaska to all sorts of
clocks and watches that ever existed. I never gave a close attention to my
grandfather’s collections, though I did enjoy sorting through them with my
eyes. Back then, I was too young to know. Wrapped up in my own little world, my
own little room, my own little head; places where I felt most comfortable and
safe. I was busy worrying about myself and about others that I did not know how
to appreciate what I already had. It was after I finally got out of my comfort
zone and looked back at what I had lost that I realized the flow of time behind
me. I no longer only saw the present, but saw the past as well.
Upon
every visit, my grandfather always tried to give me something from his
collection but I did not want any of his things. However, I feel like I
understand him better now. He must have wanted me to know what his world must
have been like by sharing a piece of it with me; his past that I had not the
slightest idea about. Now, I found my old self doing exactly the same thing. It
is my turn to share the life I lived. This scrap book is my collection of
antics that I hope to share with you. It’s only a tiny piece, a small
representation, yet you probably cannot find anything on Earth today that is in
my scrap book. You may not have the slightest clue what these pictures and dusty
flowers are. But if you are reading this, I hope you know one thing. That I
have kept this for you and for me as well: to remember what my life was like
during my ages of miracles.
I hope birds may
still be flying somewhere in your skies.
Sincerely,
Julia