“Mom,” he says, “there’s some lady outside who needs water.”

Mr. 17 is back from soccer practice, standing in the front hall, holding an unfamiliar water bottle.

I blink. What?

“She was going to use our hose. She was walking down our driveway. She seems really thirsty, so I told her I’d get her some water.”

Our house is not large, so he’s already in the kitchen by the time he finishes this uncharacteristic rush of sentences. I hear ice cubes clink against metal, then running water. He lopes back towards the front door, screwing the lid onto the water bottle.

Before he goes out, he pauses and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. He looks at the water bottle in his hand and looks at me. “Do you have maybe $5 we can give her, too? So she could buy some water or something? She seemed really thirsty. Everybody should have water, you know? It’s like, basic.”

I nod, find my wallet, and hand him $5.

“Thanks, Mom.” He hugs me, takes the water bottle and the money, and disappears out the front door. I catch a glimpse of him handing someone the water. She has certainly seen hard times. Seconds later, he’s back inside, saying, “Oh, I’m going to [my friend’s] house. They’re waiting outside. I’ll be home later.” He looks around for a bathing suit, finds a towel, and he’s gone.

And I’m left, quietly stunned.

My children don’t follow the news. I wish they did, I guess, but the news these days is so often unsettling that I don’t push. Sometimes at dinner, we bring up various topics for discussion, but mostly our teens are happily ensconced in a world that is immediate to them. Mr. 17 probably doesn’t know that right now the world is arguing about who is or isn’t providing aid to people in Gaza, pointing fingers and laying blame while allowing children to starve. I doubt he’s seen the images that make my stomach hurt. He certainly doesn’t know that I was just talking to a friend about feeling helpless, overwhelmed and almost constantly unsettled. And yet, when someone was in our front yard, thirsty, he got her water and gave her a little more than she asked for. He did it without even pausing. I am stunned by his easy kindness, by his clear statement: everyone should have water.

Worldwide solutions are, of course, far more complicated than this interaction; but really, the idea that everyone should have water (and food) seems like a reasonable place to start.