THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL : THE DEFINITIVE EDITION ... - Fidele

But even if I were ever in a position to help, she wouldn't need it more than she
does now. I wonder if she ever thinks of me, and what she's feeling?
Merciful God, comfort her, so that at least she won't be alone. Oh, if only You
could tell her I'm thinking of her with compassion and love, it might help her go
on.
I've got to stop dwelling on this. It won't get me anywhere. I keep seeing her
enormous eyes, and they haunt me. Does Hanneli really and truly believe in God, or
has religion merely been foisted upon her? I don't even know that. I never took
the trouble to ask.
Hanneli, Hanneli, if only I could take you away, if only I could share everything
I have with you. It's too late. I can't help, or undo the wrong I've done. But
I'll never forget her again and I'll always pray for her!
Yours, Anne
MONDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1943
Dearest Kitty,
The closer it got to St. Nicholas Day, the more we all thought back to last year's
festively decorated basket.
More than anyone, I thought it would be terrible to skip a celebration this year.
After long deliberation, I finally came up with an idea, something funny. I
consulted rim, and a week ago we set to work writing a verse for each person.
Sunday evening at a quarter to eight we trooped upstairs carrying the big laundry
basket, which had been decorated with cutouts and bows made of pink and blue
carbon paper. On top was a large piece of brown wrapping paper with a note
attached. Everyone was rather amazed at the sheer size of the gift. I removed the
note and read it aloud:
"Once again St. Nicholas Day
Has even come to our hideaway;
It won't be quite as Jun, I fear,
As the happy day we had last year.
Then we were hopeful, no reason to doubt
That optimism would win the bout,
And by the time this year came round,
We'd all be free, and s* and sound.
Still, let's not Jorget it's St. Nicholas Day,
Though we've nothing left to give away.
We'll have to find something else to do:
So everyone please look in their shoe!"
As each person took their own shoe out of the basket, there was a roar of
laughter. Inside each shoe was a little wrapped package addressed to its owner.
Yours, Anne
Dearest Kitty,
A bad case of flu has prevented me from writing to you until today. Being sick
here is dreadful. With every cough, I had to duck under the blanket -- once,
twice, three times -- and try to keep from coughing anymore.