Rebecca Novick
2024: 100 thousand praises
100 Things I Will (already) Miss When (as) the Climate Changes
Knowing when to expect the rain
Counting on a reliable supply of anything I could wish for
Safe plane travel
Prehistoric viruses staying frozen
Trees on the side of the street that the city tends
A system for sending things from one side of the world to the other
Breathable air
Sweater weather
More where that came from
A knowable future
That part of 580 that runs right by the Bay
A belief that a true crisis will bring people together
Trusting that recycling is enough
Electricity all day
Saving for retirement
Birds
Bees
Coffee
Food security
Replacement parts
Fall leaves
Seasonal produce
The smell of the air just before it rains
Thinking college is a good investment
Believing a government agency could fix anything
Public health
Banks
Value of an American passport
Welcoming a storm
Snow on the mountain tops
Now in California I
Have lost the seasonal rhythms if
I ever had them it rains and sometimes
It doesn’t sometimes it doesn’t rain for
Years and even the trees wither but then
Flood
Last year the fog left us for two months and we wondered
What would San Francisco be without its fog as we
Looked at our phones to see if we could
Breathe the air we had left
Or what will I not miss when we change our lives:
The way the sky turns those awful colors over Richmond when the refinery vents
The extra layers of plastic on everything keeping us safe?
How the beach is littered with garbage after a storm
The smell of the groundwater rising where it shouldn’t
The fear the fear that this one will be the big one the last one
Worrying about almond milk instead of Big Oil
Parking structures
Suburbs
Raising your kids alone
Polar bears
Beaches
When I paid less attention to the weather
Safe medicines I can buy at the store
Other people taking the brunt of it
Knowing my children will be better off than me
Peace
Monarch butterflies on their migration each year
Familiar frost dates
Topsoil
Rainforests
Elephants
Snow days
Fast everything
Driving your own car
Wishing
Predictable growth
Enough to go around
Believing in progress
Fish
Growing up in Michigan I
Could smell when the snow was coming I
Could tell you which flowers would bloom when
The crocuses pushing through the snow then the forsythia
The bluebells wild across our back yard
Lilac strong and sweet in June as the short spring
Turned to summer and the zucchini piled on porches
August corn and tomatoes and the quick fade to
Blazing red maple leaves and the frost
Returning just when it was supposed to
Maybe I will miss having a new kleenex every time I blow my nose
Throwing out the slightly frayed towel
The convenience of disposable everything
Plastic water bottles
Plastic straws
Plastic grass
Driverless cars
Empty buses
Takeout containers
Ziploc bags
The idea that this is inevitable
That this invisible hand we imagined together is real
Believing deep down that this is what progress looks like
That you are just somehow left out of the rising tide lifts all boats
That you are in a different rising tide the one no one will name
I will not miss the denial
I will not miss the silence
I will not miss performative recycling
Or believing that revolution is impossible
That it is all downhill from here