Bitzelwasser

That little girl, always sharp as a tack, sat down beside me at the kitchen table after the supper dishes had been cleared away. I had my ear tilted down towards the rim of my glass, awash in nostalgic bliss, being carried away by the fizzy spring-sprong of the bubbly mineral water.

"What are you . doing?" (the slight stop just before the word doing, which she said with vigor and extra breathiness, indicates how a child asks an adult this question at times like these.)

I opened one eye, looked at her, and in a conspiratorial whisper told her that the sparkling water was relating a memory.

She whispered back, "what?"

"It is remembering the time it had to choose between being poured into the green or the brown bottle."

She turned to look at the two bottles on the table. "But the green one comes from Germany and the brown one doesn't."

The young ones do have acute eyesight! I grinned and thought quickly.

"But look, they both have big red triangles on the labels," I explained. "See, after the water bubbled up from the beautiful spring, it rested in a little pool. And then the red triangle people came with green bottles and brown bottles and gave the waterdrops a choice."

Her chin tilted up at me, and I got the look ... that look that children give adults at moments like this.

"So why did the water in your glass pick the green bottle?"

"Because it wants to refresh people. The water in the brown bottle wants to help people feel sleepy." I smiled.

She got up, came back with a glass, and with effervescence, asked for some water from the green bottle. Then with the most charming of smiles, "so if I drink this, I can stay up late tonight!"