Even as flatmates, we were connected by the same environment and experienced similar things in childhood. Small adventures became memories that still accompany us, now that we are both retired.
At the placers' meetings I've always loved reading my first entries – simple stories that smelled of play and the warmth of memories. She listened with an open heart, as if recognising in my words an echo of our shared steps.
She often told me that no one who writes should keep their writing to themselves, but rather share it with others. She encouraged me to send my poems, short prose, or essays to the literary society, which publishes an anthology every two years. Degrees. It seemed bold, almost unbelievable, that my works could find a place between the covers of the latter, yet I still gathered the courage and sent them two poems, an essay, and a note.
When my works were published, I was allowed to read them to an audience. It was an experience I will never forget. My heart fluttered like a bird learning to fly, but as I spoke the first verses, I felt I was where I was meant to be. I was overcome with a mixture of nervousness, pride, newfound confidence, and deep gratitude. Gratitude to her, my companion from childhood, who recognised in me something I was only just beginning to discover myself.
Immediately after that event, I joined a literary society. Not out of courage, but out of belonging, because I found a home among those who breathe for the word. It felt as though I had stepped into a space that was tailor-made for me. Now, I happily participate in our monthly "Večernice" (evenings). Among dear literati, I read my poetry and share it with people who understand how precious a word can be. I learn again and again how powerful a word can be when you share it with others.
If today I step among people who love literature as sincerely as they breathe, I know I have found my circle. I feel a sense of belonging at every meeting, with every read, in every moment when my words touch someone else. This is not just a society, but also a space where my thoughts blossom and where I am accepted for who I am. Belonging is the friend who opens the door for you before you even dare to knock.
I am grateful to Neta for inviting me in, and to myself for stepping over the threshold. I am home here. I create, grow, and belong here.
Belonging isn't just being part of a group, but the feeling that people accept you for who you are, May your words find a home in the hearts of others. It is the feeling that your words are not lost, but accepted and heard.
My words are at home within me, in company and with readers. And now, on paper too.
Bernarda Jenko
English (UK) 
Slovenščina 
Italiano 
Magyar