I do not really know why I am writing this letter. I do not even know if you are alive. But it's been a decade, and I want you to know that I have not forgotten you. That I still carry your memories in my heart.
I cried that day, you know? I cried when they took me away from you. I didn't speak for the next few weeks, the doctors say. You remember how we used to shiver whenever they came to "inspect" us?
I hope you escaped too. I hope you know that there is a life outside those four walls. A life of hope and goodness. I hope you learned that darkness is not forever, that shadows do not always have to chase you. I hope you learned to trust people again. To love again.
We have seen the worst of humanity. Things that we can never unsee and memories that we can never wash away from our hearts. But do you remember, how we passed the days? You drew me the mountains that you called home. And I painted stars on those tear stained walls. And those memories, they keep me alive.
I still take medication, you know. The doctors say it is essential to my health. They say it's for my own sanity. But what do they know of sanity? They know nothing of what it's like to crave a sight of blue skies, pine for a breath of fresh air and long for a view of the full moon on a rainless night.
I hope you found your way back home, friend. And if you ever take a trip beyond those snow capped mountains and come to Amsterdam, you know where to find me, don't you?
allbymyself@divokost Ah yes, The Diary of a Young Girl. A book astonishing for it's contradictions, the simple life of Jews interspersed with the horrors of war. Yes, no winds and no amount of time can completely heal those scars. At best, you can hope that the harrowing memories fade away, though they can never be completely erased away.