“Climate change.” My elderly father taps the newspaper. “What do they think? That we can just close down businesses? Give up our cars? Stop eating hamburgers? No one’s going to go along with that.”
I don’t respond, our perspectives so far apart, words can’t bridge the chasm.
“And why should I care?” he asks the paper. “I’m not going to be around when it all goes to hell.”
My grandson plays in front of the television, watching superhero cartoons. His great grandfather flicks the remote. The child stills, silent, stares. Silhouettes of kangaroos leap across the burning sky, a world on fire.
Lament your future
As we grant with apathy
A burned legacy
God bless the little children
We bequeath a blazing world
Note: Apologies to my father for the portrayal. This is so NOT him.
I can’t get the photos of Australia’s fires out of my head.