My earliest memory of feeling linked with nature was out on the water in my hometown of Gulfport, Florida, with my dad. Gulfport is a small beach town, nestled along the Gulf of Mexico, where life flows to the beat of tides and afternoons storms. My earliest and most vivid memories are of standing on the deck of my dad's boat, breathing in the salt thick in the air, the sky transforming from a blinding blue to stormy charcoal gray. We weren't out there for fun—we were storm chasers, if you want to call it that. Not of the thrill-seeking, high-speed variety you see on television, but a curious, observational variety. My father used to instruct me to watch the clouds, listen to the wind, and feel the tension in the air just before the storm hit. He showed me how nature talks, provided that one is willing to read its language. That's when I became enamored with the weather, to begin with—not so much because it was so melodramatic or so beautiful, but because it told a story. Every storm was like a rhythm, a pattern, a purpose. I began to see weather not merely as something that happens to us, but as something that can affect our lives, especially in a city like Gulfport, where the constant threat of hurricanes and tropical storms reminds you at all times. That understanding grew over time, and now it sets the course I want to follow: that of a meteorologist. My relationship with the world—particularly the atmosphere—has influenced nearly all of my education decisions throughout my life. I choose science courses that challenge me to think about systems, patterns, and change. I'm most interested in climate science and how rising ocean temperatures are driving storms—something I've noticed more and more over the last few years. I would like to know the science of the forecast and use that knowledge to help others plan and adapt. I believe that meteorology is not just saying it's going to rain or be sunny; it's about making people aware, saving lives, and being more respectful of the forces of nature that are surrounding us. If money were no object, I would create a traveling interactive exhibit called "Eye of the Storm." It would simulate what it is like to be inside various extreme storms—hurricanes, tornadoes, flash floods—through safe but authentic visuals, sound design, and multimedia storytelling. Visitors would not only feel the power of these storms but also learn about how climate change is influencing their number and severity. The exhibition would also incorporate interactive features, such as storm drill preparations, climate teaching stations, and personal testimony of storm survivors from all over the world. The idea would be to combine education with emotion, such that people do not merely learn about the science of storms but actually go through the importance of protecting the world and preparing communities. My dream is to encourage the next generation of weather-watchers, climate thinkers, and planet protectors—especially those of us in small coastal towns like mine, where the horizon has ever been about something greater than weather. To us, it stands for resilience, awareness, and awe.