The grey Berlin sky hung heavy over Anna's nine-year-old world, a world of school, friends, and the familiar comfort of her pink rabbit. Whispers of a man named Hitler, whose face appeared on posters everywhere, began to seep into her days, though his pronouncements about Jews seemed distant, almost unreal. Papa, a renowned cultural critic, however, understood the true gravity of the shifting political winds. One morning, just before the crucial election of March 1933, he was gone, having slipped away to Switzerland. Soon after, Mama explained that they, too, must leave, and quickly.
The hurried departure meant choices had to be made, and in the rush, Anna left behind her beloved pink rabbit, opting instead for a newer woolly dog, convinced they would soon return. It was only later, from the safety of Switzerland, that the true meaning of their flight began to sink in. News arrived that Hitler had indeed risen to power, their home in Berlin had been seized, and with it, all their possessions, including the pink rabbit. It felt as though Hitler himself had reached into her childhood and taken a piece of it.
Life in Switzerland, in a small inn by Lake Zurich, offered a temporary reprieve. Anna and her older brother, Max, adapted with remarkable ease, finding new friends and learning to navigate their new surroundings. The days were filled with yodeling lessons and the curious custom of boys throwing pebbles when they liked a girl. Yet, even in this haven, the shadow of their past lingered. German tourists, recognizing them, would forbid their children from playing with Anna and Max, a chilling reminder of the prejudice they had escaped.
Papa, ever the driving force, soon decided that Switzerland offered little prospect for his work, and so the family embarked on another journey, this time to Paris. The move brought new challenges: a new language to master, unfamiliar customs, and the constant strain of financial worries. Mama, despite the hardships, maintained a buoyant spirit, once even buying Anna a luxurious, chestnut-filled pastry when homework troubles loomed, even if it meant mussels instead of fish for supper. Anna, initially frustrated by the complexities of French, found resilience within herself, eventually excelling in her studies and even winning a prize for her writing.
As the years passed, the family's existence remained precarious. Letters from Onkel Julius back in Germany grew increasingly coded and sad, hinting at the deepening darkness there. The weight of being refugees, of constantly adapting and rebuilding, was a heavy one, yet the core of their family remained strong. Mama and Papa, through their unwavering unity and belief that "everything is possible, as long as we stay together," instilled in Anna and Max a sense of adventure and optimism.
The next chapter of their displacement led them across the English Channel. A film company had bought the rights to one of Papa's scripts, offering a glimmer of hope for stability in London. The sea voyage was rough, the arrival in England amidst rain and a new, incomprehensible language daunting. Yet, as they stepped onto the foreign soil, Anna, now approaching twelve, looked at Max and declared with a newfound confidence that they would learn English, just as they had learned French. The pink rabbit remained a distant memory, a symbol of what was lost, but the family, together, carried their own home within them.
