I think I may be one of the "internet generation" to start a blog. Until just recently, I wasn't even exactly sure what blogging was. When an auntie of mine informed me a couple of weeks ago as to what a blog was and given the fact that writing has always been one of my favourite hobbies I figured "Why Not?" I spent a week or two pondering as to what I wanted to blog about and unable to decide on just one particular topic or theme I figured I would write about anything at any particular time that I find interesting or compelled to write about. I very well be the only one who ever reads it anyway.

Anne Frank & I

I was twelve the first time I ever read "The diary of Anne Frank". The librarian of the elementary school I attended while in the seventh grade also happened to be a close friend of mine's mom. She really took a liking to me, probably on account I almost always had my nose in a btieat books about a variety of things and one afternoon she plunked the Anne's diary in my lap. I had recently read a wonderful book about a young man's journey through the horrors of the holocaust called "Daniel's Story" written by a wonderful Canadian writer named Carol Matas. This sparked a real curiousity in me about the Holocaust "The Diary of Anne Frank" right from the start, not just for that reason, but because she was my age at that time. I was only a couple pages when I began to feel a real kinship with Anne, a bond that I feel to this very day. It amazed me how to girlsfrom two totally different times and circumstance could have so many similarities.I must have read the diary cover to cover in a day or two I was so enthralled. That was sixteen years ago and I have read the diary probably annually since. The amazing thing is each time I read it I get something different from it. It is almost as though the diary grows with me even though Anne's words remain the same forever.
Now and then I will have a dream about Anne Frank. The night before last I had the first dream about her that I have had in a while. They are always different but this one was very different. In my dream I could see Anne at the end of this long, blurry hallway. She was too far back for me to be able to recognize her, but I knew it was her. We were walking towards one another but it was almost like I was getting anywhere. I can remember thinking in my dream something along the lines of. "I know I am dreaming but I still want to see and talk to her". In my dream I felt excited. I am walking and walking then....poof... she was right in front of me. The funny thing is the person in front of me was actually my own self, at twelve years old. It looked like me but in my dream I knew it was Anne Frank. Everything I wanted to ask her left me and I was speechless. Anne was quiet too. Then she smiled, nodded and said two words to me, "It's True".