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I recently read my first poem in the book, “The Vase,” and saw it in a new light; I came face-to-face with my subconscious: I am the one in the Garden of Eden. I am the new, hardly formed, spontaneous Eve. I launched the toy bear that smacked the vase, the vase teetered, came crashing down, and in that second, that unstoppable moment when something so joyous goes so wrong, life changed for good. It was the downfall: the expulsion from the Garden that set the tone for all of life’s subsequent events. In retrospect, I should have told my mother, “Adam did it.”