**A Diary Entry: Happiness Comes to Those Who Believe**
It’s funny how life circles back. I’ve been thinking about that snowy afternoon in Year 8 when I slipped away from the school Christmas party with Tommy. Snowflakes the size of goose feathers tumbled from the sky, as if someone had torn open a pillow high above. It was magical. Tommy took my cold hands in his and warmed them with his breath. We’d been friends since primary school, but that day, something shifted. We both knew childhood was slipping away—though we didn’t know where to—but at least we had each other. We hoped it would last forever.
“Lord, how long ago that was,” I think now. Where’s Tommy these days?
At thirty-two, I’ve never married. Fate had other plans, and most of those plans were shaped by my mother, Margaret. If not for her, my life might’ve been different.
I was just a normal girl—running, playing, inseparable from Tommy and my best friend Lucy. Tommy carried my schoolbag from Year 1, helped me with maths, shielded me from stray dogs and bullies. His father drank too much, often throwing him and his mum out of the house. They’d stay with us sometimes.
Mum would sigh and say to Tommy’s mother, “Susan, why do you put up with it? Divorce him—this isn’t living.”
Susan always shrugged. “I stay for my boy.”
“But what’s he learning from this?” Mum pressed.
Later, she’d warn me, “Emily, I don’t like you spending so much time with Tommy.”
“Mum, he’s the bravest, kindest friend I have!”
“You’ll see when you’re older. He’ll turn out just like his father. Plenty of other boys around.”
I never listened. Tommy was my rock. We swam in the deep river (he stayed close—I was never a strong swimmer), stood at the cliff’s edge, once nearly slipping. Our bond only grew. Lucy tagged along too, though she drifted when she fancied a boy named Michael from another class. We understood.
That winter after New Year’s, I fell and broke my leg badly. Mum wept. “Emily, love, you’ll be lame forever!”
But I refused to accept it. Even the doctor told her, “Your daughter’s determined—she’ll walk again.” And I did, step by step, first on crutchesOne day, years later under that same old birch tree, Tommy—now my husband—whispered, “Happiness came, just like we believed it would,” and I knew our waiting had finally ended.
