By Marvin H. Berenson, M.D. September 20, 2011

I am 21 and the year is 2031. I live in Texas and California  and Wyoming and New York.

I live in a world where living has become a bad word. As I look from my home into the surrounding forests, I see flames consuming what remains of our forests. I turn the faucet on and water trickles into my glass. I wait while it fills, stemming my impatience for I am thirsty and my thirst has been years in the making. It is so hot and I fight the impulse to pour it over my head to cool me, if for only a moment, but I dare not, for I am thirsty.

As far as my eyes can see, parched land cracked into picture puzzle pieces surrounded me. Where has the rain gone? Is there no more water? I asked, my eyes glazed and my head crazed. I looked up into God’s waiting heart.  Is there no more water? Just a few drops. I don’t want much. Just a few drops. I walked back into my house and sat quietly in a corner, waiting, waiting.

Yesterday and the day before and before again, it rained and rained; the waters flooding the already drenched streets. When will it stop? I can no longer see; the downpour has blinded my vision. I scarcely noticed the downed trees and the cars flowing by. For my head was turned upwards, beseeching, praying. I didn’t want much. I only prayed for the rain to stop. Why aren’t my prayers answered? So much water. So much water.

I ran in fear as a swarm of strange enormous bees veered toward me.  Not again, I whispered as I escaped into a waiting shed where others huddled hiding from the eerie buzzing that filled their ears. I looked toward the floor and stepped back just as a black, slithery bug touched my foot.  Where had they come from I pondered. Stop your thoughts, fool, you know that new things appear today that weren’t here yesterday.  It’s so hot. Why is it so hot?

I cried in the deepest sorrow as I gazed at the fallen trees scattered throughout the forest. What had gnawed their roots weakening them until they gave up and fell with a dying crash? Strange vines crawled everywhere and the ferns that once flowered here were gone. Where is my forest I loved? I wailed.
 
Why does the name Glacier National Park exist, I asked bitterly? I can hardly find a glacier. Are there any left? The top of Kilimanjaro where glaciers once flourished and even the mighty Himalayas’ mantle of deep glaciers that fed the thirst of hundreds of millions of people at their feet now waited for their supply of snow. But the torrents of water from yesteryear now barely meander down the mountain sides.  The torrents of drinkable water are gone. Gone to where. How did this happen? Why are people dying of thirst when across the waters the rains go on forever. Why has God forsaken these vast mountain peaks? Why did the Himalayas’ snow and glaciers go away?

I turned to my father who cowered in shame and glanced sadly at my mother’s bowed head.  Whom do I turn to if not to them on this day when I turn 21?  Why won’t they look at me? They must now look to me. Will they accept responsibility for my decaying world? Do they realize that they had opportunities for years before I was born to stop this madness. Stop it before that point of no return had inexorably appeared and the tide could not longer be stemmed. Once the peat moss had opened it veins and carbon dioxide and methane bubbled from the warming land and the ocean floor spewed forth countless bubbles of methane the conflagration had come to stay. The gases rose up and laughed at our folly and filled the Heaven above until it changed into our personal Hell.

Today in 2031 other children are being born and when they reach 21 what world will they see?

When I was one I needed them to save my world and save my future. Now I tread in no man’s land.  Neither they nor I have a viable plan. The world is waiting for destruction from without. The world is waiting, just waiting. Where is my future?

For those deeply concerned for the future of our planet, read "Rescue," a novel that focuses on the increasing dangers to earth as global warming and worldwide pollution sweep the world. It offers solutions to the immense crisis that faces us.

Visit http://www.DrMarvinBerenson.com. to review “Rescue” and sign-up to receive Dr. Berenson’s highly informative biweekly newsletter and two FREE gifts.

Marvin H. Berenson, M.D. is Clinical Professor Emeritus of Psychiatry, USC Keck School of Medicine, psychiatrist, lecturer, author and artist.