We all write history each and every second we live. Indeed we write history because we live.
We may write a story, paint, draw, create something that a thousand years from now inspires someone else to a kind of glory or or a deep depravity. We may have children and one of our descendants may save the world or hurl it to destruction. Who is to know? In the uncertainty of existence the one certain thing we can know is that taking the life span of the human race as a time-chart, we all make a difference because we all appear on that chart. Linked together and flowing forward with each other. A river of potential outcomes.
This isn’t about having a name, or those fleeting moments when one person or a few carry out some pivotal action. This isn’t about those moments of crisis or remarked individual merit. This is just about being, and through being how we influence events because if a butterfly can change the weather then we are assured one human life can make changes.
I don’t know who my DNA progenitor was, I will never know. Her face is hidden, her name unknown but this I know; because she existed 55,000 thousand years ago a tribe was created. A tribe that went from North Africa into Europe and back again and into Spain. She ate, drank, lived a while and vanished.
She helped make Europe and Europe modeled modern America. Without her our world would be radically different.