Looking at this old black-and-white photograph, I pause for a moment. It shows the building of a house and a world so different from today's. I wasn't around back then. More than sixty years have passed since this photograph was taken, and yet I have the feeling that it somehow brings me home.
In the photograph is my mum when she was still a little girl. She is standing by the house while it was only just taking on its true appearance. I can see my grandad, who was a renowned carpenter in those days, and a few other family members. I remember the stories about the building of our house that mum and grandad loved to tell. The neighbours helped them out too. Everyone did what they knew how and were able to do. Someone knew how to lay bricks, another how to shape wood, a third grabbed some tools, and mum always made sure there was a feast.
Back then, people didn't ask »What's in it for me?«, but rather »How can I help?«. I think that was precisely the magic of their time. Back then, people knew how to help each other. They knew how to come together for a good cause.
My grandparents built their family home themselves. Grandfather was a carpenter. His hands knew how to create beautiful and durable objects from a piece of wood. Grandmother was a homemaker, so she took care of the home and family. They had six children. Today, I can't imagine what kind of ruckus there must have been around the house. Six different personalities, six youngsters running around the courtyard and filling the house with their voices.
The house was of course not built overnight. The construction took quite some time. Every beam, nail and piece of wood bore the trace of human hands; dad and mum, relatives, friends and neighbours.
Back then, people didn't live the way they do today. Not everything was at your fingertips. There weren't as many machines, gadgets and comforts. Doing many tasks required much more time, patience and physical strength than today, which is why the help of another person was invaluable.
If a neighbour needed help, they would rush to their aid. If a family was building a house, everyone pitched in with the work. And when the work was done, the result was not just a built house, but a bond between them.
Today I live in this house, which was built by mum and dad. In the house where the laughter of six children was once heard. In the house into which other family members and neighbours also put their effort.
Sometimes I gaze at some old piece of furniture from that time and think about how today we perhaps do not realise enough how precious mutual help is. People used to have less, but they often gave more to each other. They had fewer material things, but more time. They had less comfort, but were more willing to help.
That photograph is precious to me. In it, I don't just see the building of a house, but also the bond between family members, which I sometimes tend to forget.
Our family home is a memory and heritage of the connection and mutual aid of our ancestors.
I feel a responsibility to preserve the memories. A home is not just walls. A home is the people who built it and helped each other along the way. A home gives you a sense of belonging.
More than sixty years ago, my dad and mum laid the foundations of our house, but in doing so, they actually laid something much more important – the foundations of our family.
And perhaps that is the most important meaning of belonging. To know where we come from, to appreciate the hands that once helped us, and to keep their memories alive. The memories of my ancestors remained, along with their love and connection. Time cannot erase these.
Maja Grošelj, 11 August 2026
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