Sitting on the sofa with the TV on. The stress of the day draining onto the floor. I glance up to see an image on the screen that holds my attention.

A man, about my age, face distorted from horror and anguish, carrying the body of a little girl, about my daughter’s age, arm dangling down, gray face covered in dust, eyes closed to the light, and a little trickle of blood dried on the side of her nose. The soft radiance extinguished.

I put down my phone, throw off the blanket, and move quickly but quietly. My wife looks up from her phone long enough to give a quizzical look, but decides to let it go.  I pad softly up the carpeted stairs, two at a time, and go quietly down the hall to the door that is left a little open. I push open the door just enough to see the same image, the same pose, in the soft blue of the nightlight. Arm hanging down, eyes closed to the light,.. but even sound asleep her face radiates delight and wonder.

I look until I forget the other image, then go back downstairs to the kitchen to grab a bag of chips before returning to the sofa.

The original definition of Evolutionary Success is the ability to become a grandparent. With all the toxic chemicals we are spreading around the globe, and the endless nature of politics and war, this definition must be modified to the ability to become a great, great grandparent.

How hard should a person fight for the well-being of their great, great grandchildren?