Dear Mother I See You

Written by Miranda Le



Letter I 

Dear Mother Nature, 

Though you may never receive this, I think it’s important to introduce

myself. I’m a human. 

I wonder: do you know how much beauty you’ve created? 

Many take your gifts for granted; I used to be one of them. 

I will send you a series of letters.

Perhaps through them you can see how some of us are

starting to understand your sorrow. 

I promise there are possibilities, even if your heart is heavy with disappointment. 

Sincerely, 

A Human 


Letter II 

Dear Mother Nature, 

When I was younger, I thought you were invincible. 

I remember Laguna Beach like paradise—

your golden shores, your breath of salt and sun.

I’d chase waves until one sent me flying.

You were a beautiful mother who provided me with

love, care, and joy.

But I never saw your pain. 

I’m older now, and today, we didn’t go to the beach. 

There was a sewage spill, my father said, and something shattered in me.

That couldn’t be true. Your tides were always so blue and welcoming. 

But the truth surfaced—memories of bags drifting like jellyfish.

Of blackening tides, of warming waves. 

I saw it all, yet I looked away. 

I couldn’t admit I was part of the problem,

that I hurt you every time I stayed silent.

You gave me wonder and freedom. I gave you carelessness. 

Mother Nature, I want to be someone who sees you fully. I want to be someone who stands up for you. 

I promise I’ll do better. 

Sincerely, 

A Human 


Letter III 

Dear Mother Nature, 

We went to Alaska.

I was unimpressed at first. But then we docked near a glacier, and that, that was my definition of sorrow and magnificence. Sprawled across the mountain was a white giant, lonely and silent, a sleeping sage. The guide said the whole valley was once ice. Now, green creeps in where ice once ruled. 

Instead of sensing hope in the greenery, I felt grief. 

It was us. We’re the reason it’s retreating, and that epiphany brought terror.

PS: I heard the sound of icebergs breaking—slow at first, like the earth held its breath.

Then came a deep, booming collapse that echoed across the valley. 

Was that the sound of your heart breaking too? 

Yours, 

A Human

 

Letter IV 

Dear Mother Nature, 

Sticky. 

That’s what I felt when we arrived in my grandparents’ village in Guangxi, China. The air was thick, the heat unbearable.


It wasn’t always like this,
my grandfather said softly. Indeed, China just experienced its hottest year in 60 years—100.4°F.1 

I watched him shake his head, holding moldy stalks. 

The crops are sick. It’s too wet, too hot. It was hot last 大暑 (Big Summer), too. But it was not always like this. 

Now, he’s thinking about leaving his land to find relief for his arthritis, but it would carve a piece of himself out. 

That piece: identity. 

Yours sorrowfully, 

A Human 


Letter V 

Dear Mother Nature, 

My friend lost her home in Los Angeles, reduced to ashes by the flood of fire. 

When I saw her, she and her family were surviving in a temporary shelter.

She watched her house burn. Though her family fled, she can still see fierce flames through closed eyes. 

I wasn’t able to save my grandma’s photos. The only photos I had after she… I’ve lost her again. 

Lydia sobbed, her face hidden in the shadows. 

She wasn’t the only one forced to flee. More than 100,000 people2 evacuated from roaring fires with no hope. 

Is this your reminder that you are not defenseless? 

Speechlessly, 

A Human  


Letter VI 

Dear Mother Nature, 

This might be my last letter. It's humbling to realize how you can be both gentle and violent,  and to understand how we admire you but harm you like ignorant tourists. 

Someone has to make sure that we honor you. But with every tide warming, every tree collapsing, hope quietly slips away through my fingers. 

Still, I must play my role in protecting you. 

Last week, we learned about the definitions of Rights and Responsibilities. Rights. The  United Nations3 told us that rights meant the freedom to live. 

Do you have rights, Mother Nature? If even a human, a mere part of your ecosystem, has the  “rights” to live, shouldn’t you too? 

Most importantly, do you have the right to defend yourself as we choke your throat? I know we’ve gone too far. 

With a humble understanding of my place in your world, 

Miranda


Footnotes: 

1"Weather Agency Says China Experienced Hottest Year on Record in 2024." Al Jazeera, 2 Jan. 2025, 

https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/1/2/weather-agency-says-china-experienced-hottest-year-on-record-in-2024.

2 NBC News. "California Wildfires Live Updates: At Least 2 Dead, 1,000 Structures Destroyed." NBC News. Accessed April 20, 2025.