Hanneli, Hanneli, if only I could take you away, if only I could let you share all the things I enjoy. It is too late now, I can’t help, or repair the wrong I have done. But I shall never forget her again, and I shall always pray for her.
Yours, Anne
Monday, 6 December, 1943
Dear Kitty, When St. Nicholas’ Day approached, none of us could help thinking of the prettily decorated basket we had last year and I, especially, thought it would be very dull to do nothing at all this year. I thought a long time about it, until I invented something, something funny.
I consulted Pim, and a week ago we started composing a little poem for each person.
On Sunday evening at a quarter to eight we appeared upstairs with the large laundry basket decorated with little figures, and bows of pink and blue carbon copy paper. It was also covered with a large piece of brown paper, on which a letter was pinned. Everyone was rather astonished at the size of the surprise package. I took the letter from the paper and read:
Santa Claus has come once more,
Though not quite as he came before;
We can’t celebrate his day In last years fine and pleasant way.
For then our hopes were high and bright.
All the optimists seemed right.
