When I was eight years old, my brother and I planted two rainbow eucalyptus trees in our hillside backyard. My dad said he wanted the seeds to grow alongside us, getting taller by the year just as we would. I remember observing the neighboring shrubs, trying to spoil what my tree would look like someday. A few years later, my mother revealed her fondness for the flamboyan that took root in front of our porch. Referred to as a flamboyant or peacock tree, when its flowers bloom the vibrant red colors dance on every inch of the surrounding landscape. My mom told me she looked forward to it every year because she knew that regardless of what the tree endured, it would always bloom. It puzzled me then, the way she referred to a plant as resilient when earlier that week one of my classmates had trampled over delicate flowers when retrieving the soccer ball he had kicked out of bounds. Growing up in such a green environment like Puerto Rico, it was easy to take nature for granted.

No amount of onomatopoeia can mimic the sounds of Sept. 20, 2017. On that day, my home was ravaged by Hurricane Maria. The whistling wind and sound of clanging branches provoked a fear I had never experienced before. During the storm, the flamboyan cracked—almost divinely—and its ever-solid trunk fell to the ground. As the red flowers scattered, they were overtaken by all the other greenery razed by the hurricane. The once towering rainbow eucalyptus became another obstacle in the wreckage that littered my neighborhood streets. The aftermath consisted of picking up debris from the shattered windows and collapsed ceiling of my life-long home. My family spent six months without electricity or running water. Others on the island lost much more than just material possessions. Over 250,000 Puerto Ricans were displaced as a result of the natural disaster, not accounting for the thousands more that migrated later. An island-wide blackout left us with no means of communicating with loved ones and no way of knowing who survived. It took me three days to contact the first few friends and family members. It took another two weeks to contact relatives who lived further away from the metropolitan area. Experts noted that the crisis was increasingly devastating due to the effects of climate change. With each passing year, higher activity is expected during hurricane season. It is no longer a matter of if there will be another catastrophic storm to devastate my community, but when. This fact should urge humanity to take action, to prevent any more homes and loved ones from being lost.

It is no secret that climate change remains a social issue. Mass migration, economic inequality, public health and other aspects of society are negatively impacted by the disastrous repercussions of climate change. While many accept the pessimistic view that it is too late to enact change, I refuse. We should all reject the notion that there is nothing to be done. After cleaning up the area, my dad found the two trees my brother and I had planted still standing. The flamboyan’s roots were still firmly planted and a year after Hurricane Maria, dozens of tiny flamboyans sprouted from the soil. The fallen blossoms I once saw as a metaphor for defeat and destruction became a symbol of renewal and life. It was then I fully grasped what my mom had been trying to tell me. This powerful tree remained even when all odds were against it. When a seemingly celestial force challenged its roots, the flamboyan had a solid foundation and perhaps more importantly, a failsafe. Its seeds spread during the disaster, ensuring its survival for generations to come. Each sapling kept growing until we eventually had to repot and gift them to other members of the community. Just as my symbolic tree found a way to thrive, we can work together to combat climate change. We can build a more sustainable world, rooted in the lessons nature teaches us: resilience, renewal and the enduring power of life. It is vital to realize that the seeds of change can be sown even in the wake of catastrophe. Education is one of the most powerful tools we have to combat climate change and something that can be passed down to the heirs of our planet. The Earth, with its remarkable ability to regenerate, is worth preserving for future generations. We have the power to be the voice of this planet and to ensure that its beauty endures, so let us wield it.