editor's note: this is fiction but we want to present a picture of a possible future, not to trivialize real suffering.
It has been a full dozen years since I left Venezuela, a country unraveling at the seams, at the tender age of 12. I journeyed to Austin, Texas—a city I had only glimpsed in photographs—where I found not only refuge but also a vibrant community and unforeseen opportunities.
Among the most impactful of these opportunities was my introduction to ReLeaf Cooperative, a forward-thinking organization dedicated to transforming waste into vertical gardens. As a newcomer to Austin, I attended one of their workshops, a modest introduction to creating modular planters from upcycled materials. What I didn’t realize at the time was that this was more than just a workshop; it was the start of a journey that would shape my life in ways I couldn’t yet comprehend.
I remember how carefully I assembled my first planter. The resourcefulness I had brought with me from Venezuela, born out of necessity, became my compass. Each planter was a small, tangible testament to the power of transformation—just as I was transforming my life from upheaval to something steadier.
Then something unexpected happened. My planters caught the eye of a local government representative. She noticed the thoughtfulness and quality in each one, and soon enough, my creations were gracing the grounds of the State Capitol, their greenery standing tall against the Texas sky. Little did I know that this attention would set something even bigger in motion.
These planters—built from waste materials, yet thriving with life—became more than just symbols of sustainability. They began generating a steady stream of income. For the first time since my arrival, I had financial stability. But more importantly, this income allowed me to give back. Part of it went into scholarships for new immigrants, helping them learn the art of upcycling and sustainable living.
Looking back, I marvel at the journey. I had arrived in Austin as a 12-year-old boy fleeing crisis, and today, I’m part of something much larger than myself. My planters, scattered across the Capitol grounds, continue to support new arrivals just as I was once supported.
And yet, there’s a whisper of uncertainty on the horizon. Austin has transformed in these last twelve years, but so have the challenges we face. The city thrives on sustainability and innovation, but with each passing year, the stakes grow higher. As I reflect on my path, I can’t help but wonder: what will the next twelve years bring? What will become of the vibrant gardens and the lives they’ve touched?