As with technology, an IPad, and airport Wifi, sometimes I lose a little work, and this time it was so disheartening since I had written so much about my visit to the house where Anne and her family and others had to hide. So here's to a second attempt to capture the experience.
My mom had recommended this visit so often that I knew I wouldn't miss this opportunity to go. I am forever touched because of it. The visit allows you to walk through the building, up the stairs, and into the rooms where they all lived, in fear yet hope, through the hatred at that time. Although I read her diary when I was younger, I did a re-read in a graduate English course with Dr. Bruce Gentry. At the time I was surprised that this was one of our reads, but after the lesson, I knew why. The power of words by a young girl who had dreams like any other young woman her age were captured in their simplicity but honestly. I so often talk about the need to write, to journal, and she did just that, giving the world a chance to know and to remember at least one girl's experience ... and what impact is has had.
So many of the artifacts left me speechless, and literally shaking my head while covering my mouth, pained. Then tears ... walking into her room, reading the lines from her journal where she simply wished to stop being afraid and live the normal life of a teenage girl: to live, to laugh,to dream. (If I had my copy of the book, I would find the passage.)
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