The Walk to the Secret Annex
It was a Monday morning, July 6, 1942, and the rain fell without pause. For the Frank family, this wasn’t just another day; it was the beginning of an end—and a beginning of a different kind. The day began not with a calm farewell, but with a frantic, silent preparation. Anne’s mother woke her at an impossibly early hour: five-thirty in the morning. To avoid suspicion, they couldn’t be seen with suitcases. So, they put on as many clothes as they could possibly wear, a practical and desperate solution that was both absurd and heartbreaking.
The first to leave was Margot. At half-past seven, she was met by Miep Gies. Margot had already removed the yellow Star of David from her jacket, a small but powerful gesture of defiance against the world that was hunting them. She and Miep left silently on a bicycle, disappearing into the city’s gray, rainy morning. A little while later, Otto, Edith, and Anne followed on foot. Anne had to leave behind her beloved cat, Moortje, a final, painful goodbye to her normal life.
The walk was a long one, about an hour, but it was filled with unspoken tension and unanswerable questions. Anne didn’t know their destination until they were already on their way: the hiding place would be her father’s business, Prinsengracht 263. A familiar place transformed into an unknown future. When they finally arrived, a nervous Margot was already waiting, the weight of their secret hanging in the air.
That rainy walk to the Prinsengracht wasn’t just a trip; it was a transition. It was the last time the four of them would walk freely through the streets of Amsterdam. The door they entered that day would stay closed behind them for more than two years, a testament to their resilience and the courage of those who helped them. Every step they took that morning was a step toward a future they couldn’t possibly imagine, a future that would change the world forever.
