Grandpa's Cellar Secret

It was a typical Saturday afternoon, as I was searching my grandfather's old basement for tools. Dust got under the nails, and the smell of damp wood and antiquity filled the space. Among the boxes, old books and various trinkets, I came across a small, metal box. It was worn and there was barely any engraving visible on the lid - it looked like a coat of arms. I opened it and was amazed - inside were coins, old and shiny, each with its own story.

The first coin I picked up was from the Kingdom of Serbia, from 1884. It was stamped with the portrait of King Milan Obrenović, and on the other side the inscription "Kingdom of Serbia" and the value of one dinar. Touching that coin, I had the feeling that I was holding a piece of history in my hand - a time when Serbia was moving towards its modernization, but was still filled with challenges. I imagined people who used that coin to pay for bread or wine in some dusty town.

Then I saw coins from 1920, from the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. They were something different, more massive, with motifs that reflected the unification of the people after the First World War. The coat of arms of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia proudly adorned one side. I thought about everything those coins had seen - from the trades in the markets to the pockets of soldiers returning home after the war.

The next coin was special – deutsches reich rentenpfennig from 1924. Its copper surface and German inscriptions told the story of post-war Germany, a country struggling with the consequences of defeat in the Great War and inflation that destroyed the value of money. I imagined the merchants in Berlin, who took piles of such coins for the simplest things.

Coins from 1961 from the USSR were also in the box. Their simple but striking design reflected the strength of the Soviet Union during the Cold War. On one side was a hammer and sickle, symbols of communism, while on the other side was written "Kopeek". Those coins probably passed through the hands of factory workers and children who spent them on candy.

In the end, I found a 1925 dinar. It had a similar design to the coins from the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, but seemed to belong to a time of stabilization and hope. On it was King Aleksandar I Karađorđević, a young monarch who believed in the future of Yugoslavia.

As I held those coins in my hands, it felt like I had unlocked a time capsule. Each coin carried a part of the story - about war and peace, about poverty and wealth, about the hopes and fears of the people who paid with them. I couldn't help but wonder how all those coins got into my grandfather's box.

Maybe my great-grandfather, a merchant from the town, collected them. Perhaps, in his youth, grandfather loved history and collected coins from various countries. Or maybe these coins were part of something even bigger, some secret family I never knew.
I returned the box to its place, determined to explore their story in more detail one day. Maybe I'll learn more about my ancestors. And maybe one day those coins will become part of the story for the next generation, as they are now for me.