Mari's Journaling Power Blog | Journaling Journeys
When I was in sixth grade, The Diary of a Young Girl was required reading at my school. I remember how touched I was by the wise words and astute observations of Anne Frank, who was about my age when she went into hiding in the Annex. When I learned that she had received her first diary on her 13th birthday, I asked my parents for one, too. Hers was named “Kitty”; mine was “Constance.”
Three decades and dozens of diaries later, I had the privilege of viewing “Kitty” up close during a visit to the Annex in Amsterdam. It was surreal to stand in the bedroom where Anne had penned her musings, gaze into the bathroom mirror that had once reflected her youthful image, and climb up to the attic, where she and Peter would gaze up at the stars through a hole in the roof. When I got back to my nearby B&B, I described this moving experience in my brand-new journal. Soon after, there was a lot more to write about, and my diary became a trusted confidante and comfort.