post.7.

one of the most profound and moving experiences of my time in europe was visiting the anne frank house. ever since i was a little girl, stories of the holocaust and its victims have deeply interested and affected me, the story of anne frank in particular. i own several books about her life and her time in hiding, as well as her written diary, and i have read the diary itself probably eight times. in fact, when i was in sixth grade, with the help of anne’s diagram inside the diary, i built a small replica of her living quarters – the secret annex – complete with all the furnishings. my dad even helped me transport it to school, so that i could explain its significance to my classmates. i brought all the books i had on the subject as well, in case any of my fellow sixth graders wanted to do more research. only a couple of them took books, i remember, but i felt so fulfilled, being able to bring light to a situation and cause that i was so passionate about. it has always, always been a dream of mine to visit the secret annex.

walking through that hidden door behind the bookshelf was more surreal than anything i have experienced in my life. as i climbed the stairs to the hiding place, i tried to imagine living in confinement for as long as she did – over two years. being able to actually trace anne’s footsteps through the maze of rooms in the annex was so incredibly moving; it was so still and so eerie. i didn’t need to watch the videos or see the pictures of what the rooms originally looked like and who inhabited them; i knew the layout by heart. when i came upon anne’s room, i knew it instantly by the movie snapshots still pasted on the walls. anne loved movie stars, she always wanted to be famous someday.

i was not expecting the rooms to be bare, i assumed they would be furnished with either the original furniture items or replicas. i wished very much that i could have gotten a bit better picture of the annex residents’ daily life that way. luckily though, like i said, i was familiar with photos and written descriptions of the living quarters; therefore i could see well in my mind what the rooms and furnishings would and did look like.

i cannot begin to describe the turmoil of emotions inside me as i lingered in front of the display case that held anne’s diary. it was almost as if i was greeting an old friend; thrilling and devastating all at the same time.

somehow, i feel such a deep love for this young woman that lived before me, died before me, experienced joy and sorrow before me, love and loss before me. anne was so incredibly brave. she shared an intimacy with the world that most of us are afraid to share with only close friends, and while the circumstances in her life may be different than ours, emotion itself is universal. we all have the capability to feel, and do feel. we cry and laugh and dance and sing and are silent. we are individuals just like anne, which is why we are able to feel such a sincere connection to her. we – i – see bits of ourselves in anne, we see bits of her in us; and that, i believe is the real gift: empathy, catharsis, compassion.