Water

Before we light a fire in the fireplace, we wash our hands and put some water on for tea. The only thing left of the snow on the floor is a tiny puddle. “Mom, did you know that if water didn’t exist in the world, you and I wouldn’t be here, and we wouldn’t have had so much fun together?” My daughter’s melodious voice astonishes me. So, we begin to talk about water. Like how it’s a passionate traveler or how amazing it is that it can travel so many miles back and forth, changing its form. It starts as a small spring, turns into a pond or a lake, becomes a mighty river, sea, or ocean. It can be a vapor one moment, then a light rain, a downpour, a snowflake, pure white snow, icy frost, a dark cloud, a pointy icicle, or “those beautifully fluffy clouds – lambs, Mom.” We talk about how water is all around us and inside us, how life originated in water, and everything living on our planet needs water. We discuss how we benefit from water every day and yet take it for granted. We also reflect on how, in the heart of affluent Europe, it’s hard for us to imagine that over half a billion people in other parts of the world consider water a luxury and must walk for miles to get it. “Your grandfather used to say something like, ‘Those who fetch their own water will understand the value of every drop,’ didn’t he, Mom?” We sip our tea, and the fire in the fireplace crackles warmly. “Mom, do you hear that? I think the tap is dripping. I’ll go fix it. And you know what? I won’t be taking a bath tonight,” my daughter concludes our little educational moment. Later that night, when I’m brushing my teeth and the water from the tap runs a bit too long, I think about those who will never have this convenience and quickly turn off the tap. Not because I think I’m saving the world, but just because. Daughter, water, and so on. 🙂