“I stand for a moment by the table, looking out a wet window to the south. One comes now, a son with his hood pulled up against early morning rain. I watch him, love of ours, meandering up the back walk. His head is bent low, feet finding all the puddles. He’s splashing through ancient water, water from the beginning that has cycled through all centuries, puddle-jumped by a thousand young boys through the ages and I wonder if the water Adam knew falls here.”

Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts, 2010