As a child I often visited my grandmother, who lived in the province. I used to whine and moan that I did not want to go anywhere as I would miss home and my friends. But since both my parents worked, I had no choice but to spend my summer and winter school vacations in the small quiet township of my granny, where housewives used to dry the laundry on long ropes stretched on the roofs of their houses and the most delicious mandarins in the world grew, where huge black bulls lazily soaked in the nearby lake and screams of fighting cats startled me at night.

Though many memories faded with time, there was an incident that I still treasure in the corner of my heart.

I was about seven years old. It was chilly winter day and I was in no mood to be sent to the granny’s. I was sure all that waited for me there was boredom and monotony. Nonetheless, the separation from home was inevitable. Grandmother understood my condition at a glance, but she didn’t utter a word. When my parents left for work, I reluctantly started to unpack my bag. Tears blurred my vision, everything around seemed gloomy and grey. Outside the window it was pouring cats and dogs, making the room seem ever dimmer. Feeling utmost miserable, I curled down on the bed and did not notice when sleep seized me.

When I woke up, it was already evening. I sniffed — yummy, yet unknown, aroma filled the air. Grandma was busy in the kitchen. Candles were lit up in long chandeliers, and their mild crackling and soft light completely metamorphosed the atmosphere, making it much cosier and comfortable. The pleasant smell was luring me.

“Grandma, what is that delicious smell?” I asked, entering the kitchen.

“Aha, you woke up, my dear! Come here. You might be feeling hungry?” grandmother smiled.

She was continuously stirring something in a small saucepan on the stove. “My chanda, I have prepared for you a magic potion.”

For the first time, I felt something the supernatural about my grandmother.

“And what is special in this potion?” I whispered, mystified.

“Oh, it’s pretty powerful mixture. Whenever somebody feels cheerless and lonely, a cup of this potion can help to miraculously melt away his sadness and bring back smile on his face. Just drink slowly, in small sips, and then see what will happen,” grandma advised.

“The wonderful aroma … is it from this potion?” I asked.

“Yes, my dear, it is,” grandma answered.

She put a small cup with deliciously steaming drink in front of me, affectionately stroked my hair and sat next to me, holding exactly the same cup. Grandma’s potion had a pleasant brown colour. It was fun to drink and inhale its amazing aroma.The first impressions are preserved so vividly in my mind, that even now — after many years — it takes no effort for me to return to that rainy evening.

With the first sips, warmth and happiness, as if by magic, filled my body. Instantly, I found myself transferred to the seashore, peacefully lying on golden sea sand, enjoying bright sun and listening to the murmur of the waves.

“Well, my dear, I see you liked my potion,” Granny stated. We both broke into laughter.

And then there were more such tasty and funny evenings. Now, when I know the name of this magic potion, I feel happy and sad at the same time. But whenever something dispirits me in my grown-up life, I prepare that magic cup and warm-heartedly remember my wise grandmother, our village house, the candlelit evening and the aroma of hot chocolate. I feel grateful that my childhood was blessed with such small but precious miracles and surprises.