I’ve always lived in proximity to the sea. Growing up in NYC, a peninsula meeting the Atlantic Ocean, and the Danish coastline at my grandmother’s house, I’ve always lived near the ocean. During my time at the beach, I’ve collected seashells. Each seashell represents a memory, a point in time. My whole life, I’ve seen the ocean as a freedom—a sense of hope. However, in recent years, the tide has turned. This same source of hope is quickly diminishing as it becomes a threat to some of the places I hold most dear to my heart. As the oceans rise, I think forward to the future. Will there be seashells for the next generation? Or will they be washed away alongside our hope to save this planet? As the excess carbon dioxide from burning fossil fuels enter the ocean, it becomes more acidic, making it increasingly difficult for mollusks to build shells. But even as the oceans rise, we must look to new beginnings. New seashells will wash up on the shore, telling a new story. Now it's our responsibility to make sure the stories of the future are told.