New York’s Subtropical Future: A Grief for a City I Thought I’d Know Forever

It’s a cold, gray morning in New York City, the kind where the rain seems endless, the air heavy with humidity, and the sky never quite clears. A feeling of sorrow lingers in the streets, as the city I’ve known for so long starts to show signs of becoming something else—something foreign. Something unrecognizable.

Today, I am sharing a reflection I wrote. I am reflecting on a poem I wrote in 2019 titled “Rain.” You can find the poem here:

Rain – The Musings of Jaime David

You can also find the podcast episode of this poem here:

The Jaime David Podcast – Episode 1: Rain – The Musings of Jaime David

Recently, I had come across an article stating that NYC is considered subtropical climate. The article can be found here.

NYC Is So Hot Right Now It’s Considered A Subtropical Climate

I never wanted to be right. When I wrote that poem back in 2019, I was just trying to make sense of the shifting weather patterns around me. It was a gut feeling that something wasn’t right—constant rain, unseasonably warm winters, and an unnerving frequency of downpours. I tried to make sense of it, as any writer does, by putting the words out into the world. And then I hypothesized: could this be climate change? Could it be that the weather in New York, a city that’s always prided itself on stability, was beginning to break down, shifting into something new?

Back then, I thought maybe I wouldn’t see the full effects of these changes for another decade or so. Perhaps, I thought, the signs were only visible in the periphery, small shifts that wouldn’t come to fruition for years, or maybe decades. But six years later—six short years later—I’m staring at an article that declares New York City is now officially classified as a humid subtropical climate. I was right. The very thing I feared, the thing I predicted with an aching sense of dread, has come to pass.

The signs were there, even in 2019. Constant rain. Unpredictable weather. A New York that seemed increasingly out of sync with what I remembered as a stable, temperate climate. And now, in 2025, it’s here, but not in the far-off future I imagined. It’s here now, and it’s happening faster than anyone predicted. The projections I read about in the past—those quiet warnings from climate scientists—weren’t distant dreams. They weren’t hypothetical. They were warnings. And as the days pass, the temperature continues to rise, the skies continue to darken, and the rain continues to fall.

I wish I wasn’t right. I wish I could take back that moment of realization when I first began to notice the changes and wonder aloud if it was climate change creeping in. But I can’t. And now, as we stand on the brink of what feels like an irreversible shift, there is an urgency to our reality. This is no longer something we can push to the back of our minds or wait for someone else to fix. This is happening in real-time. This is a crisis. And we can’t afford to waste time.

What does it mean to live in a city like New York if it’s no longer the New York we once knew? To walk these streets and know that something fundamental is slipping away? The New York I grew up with, with its temperate weather and bustling energy, seems to be fading into the background, replaced by a version of the city that feels more like a stranger than a home. The constant rain, the heat waves, the unpredictable storms—this is not what I signed up for.

But it’s not just about nostalgia. It’s not just about grieving the city’s changing weather patterns. It’s about the urgency of the matter. We can’t waste any more time. We can’t keep pretending that this is some distant problem that won’t affect us for years. The fact is, climate change is here—and it’s happening faster than even I imagined. If we don’t act now, if we don’t recognize the gravity of this moment, there may be no New York left to save.

So, as I reflect on how quickly the world around us has changed, I can’t help but feel a profound sadness—not just for the city I thought I knew, but for the world that is slipping away beneath our feet. We are running out of time. And I can’t help but wonder, as I look up at the gray skies and listen to the rain, whether we are ready to face what comes next.