25,000 BC.
In what one day would be called Florence Italy, Cave Dad squatted at the entrance of his family cave. He was looking out to the meadow that ran like a bright green highway into the distant mountains for miles and miles.
His entire body ached, and many parts of him were bleeding, some more than others. Of course he didn’t notice the pain or the blood as they were a constant.
His pain and blood, and every other distraction had to be ignored, as he was planning the path he would be taking through that meadow to get to that mountain again tomorrow. To get where the mountain hares were.
Behind him he could hear the sounds of his cave wife and three cave daughters sharing the mountain hares he had caught to feed them all.
They were cooing, giggling and moaning in a way that only the truly hungry do when flesh and fat are finally in their mouths again.
All they knew was that they were hungry and Cave Dad had just walked into the cave with some food. They had no idea what it took for that to happen, and they never should or would. Well, his sons would, if he ever had any.
These sounds of happiness and safety from his family were the only reward and acknowledgement that Cave Dad needed.
He turned to watch them. The setting sun cast a beautiful orange glow inside his family’s cave. He didn’t notice it. He was scanning all the members of his cave family making sure nothing seemed wrong with any of them.
When they were all full of mountain hare meat, fat and blood, and when he was sure they were all fast asleep, he turned to the bones pile and picked through the scraps for his dinner. He lit a fire at the cave entrance to ward off predators, and he lay on his back, nearest to the cave entrance.
He stared at the top of the cave for a very long time, wide-eyed. There was never a time where he could feel that he provided enough or protected enough. It was never time to take a break. Resting meant failure and possible death for them all.
When his cave wife and cave daughters awoke the next day, the Cave Dad’s sleeping place was already cold, as he had left many hours before.
Outside the cave entrance was a severe torrent of high winds, lightning, thunder and rain so thick the green meadow was not visible. They all thought of Cave Dad out there, somewhere, with the torrent swirling about his head and body. Was there nothing he was afraid of?
He was making his way through that torrent, as if it didn’t exist, along the lush green meadow, to the mountains beyond, where the mountain hares could be found.
