SLOVENIA'S 5 CORE VALUES

When the fog lingers between the houses and Mount Konjiška disappears in the afternoon, it's as if she's tired of it all too. The holidays were approaching, the shops were full, people were nervous, and I had the feeling that everything was passing me by or without me.

My mother, Lidija Krupljan, came unannounced and for no particular reason in the middle of the week for coffee. Such visits were always a way to be close without interfering. She never came to ask how you were, but came when she felt it was right. There was something deeply respectful about that - she trusted the feeling and at the same time felt that if I wanted to, I would already have told her. We sat in the kitchen and talked about everyday things; no pressure and no explanations. This was our tacit agreement: trust based on respect.

As she stood up to leave, she took a plastic container out of her bag and put it on the table.

»I'll leave you this,« she said. »You have to add something to it every day.«

She stood there for a moment, as if she wanted to say something more, but then changed her mind. Then she added: »Then you divide it.«

She didn't check whether I was really going to do it. She didn't explain why it was important. She trusted and I respected that trust by not asking any more questions than necessary. We did not control each other, but there was a kind of respectful understanding between us: she respects me and I respect her.

When she left, the apartment was silent. I watched the dough, like looking at something you didn't ask for or ask for, but now it's yours. On the first evening of the day, I added flour and milk without any particular feeling. I did what was agreed. Not because I had to, but because I respected what had been entrusted to me.

I almost forgot about it on the second day. I only remembered it just before going to bed. When I opened the bowl, it was different. Something had happened without me doing anything about it. It's like in relationships; when there is trust and respect, the process flows even when we are not standing next to each other.

Over the next few days, the dough became part of the day, not part of the mood. It did not require attention, but presence. Just like my mother, she never demanded an explanation why I couldn't do it, but respected my limits and at the same time trusted that I would do what was right.

Mum never mentioned bread again. She didn't check and she didn't ask. That was the point: trust without control and respect without conditions. I understood that real help is not about leading another, but about believing in them - and the responsibility that such trust brings.

When the day came to divide the dough, I did not delay out of attachment, but out of respect for the process. Because some things don't stay with you. They are entrusted to you to pass on.

I understood then that trust and respect are not two separate concepts, but one value. One starts, the other continues. One trusts, the other respects that trust. And it is in this balance that relationships do not fall apart, but endure.

Zala Krupljan