**Diary Entry**
I was a spoiled, lazy twenty-year-old who thought the world owed me something. My life changed because of one meeting—one person who showed me what truly mattered.
When I was five or six, my mum would always say, “Love, you deserve everything you want—full stop.” At first, it was toys, then the biggest slice of cake at parties, then medals in school competitions. If I didn’t get my way, I’d throw a tantrum until I did. Without realising it, I grew up believing the world was obliged to hand me everything.
Mum did her best. To her, I was the only light in her life, and she went out of her way to make me feel special. But too much love, too much indulgence—it didn’t make me a better person. Instead, I became entitled, idle, and useless. I lived for myself, assuming it would last forever. Then—everything fell apart. First, I lost the job Mum had pulled strings to get me. Then she died. Suddenly. An illness nobody saw coming. And just like that, I was alone—broke, friendless, adrift. My old world had vanished.
That’s when I remembered my dad.
He’d always been quiet, almost invisible next to Mum’s strong presence. He never argued, never took charge. But when she was gone, he changed. Or rather, he became himself. He looked at me differently—like a lost child who still had a chance. Months later, he said, “Time for a change. We’re moving to the countryside.” I was horrified.
*“What? Me? The countryside?”* I scoffed, the spoiled city boy who’d never worked a day in his life.
*“We’ll grow sunflowers. Maybe keep chickens,”* he said calmly.
I slammed the door in his face. He left without me. No arguments. And he was right to.
Two months I spent wandering London, job-hunting—all in vain. I got sacked within weeks. Nothing worked. My pride evaporated with my last quid. Desperate, I rang Dad, hoping for money. Instead, he said, *“Come. See for yourself.”*
I had no choice. Three days later, I was on a train to a small village in Yorkshire. There, I met a woman—we talked, and it turned out she was heading to the same place, where her little girl lived with her grandmother. As we walked, I saw her—twelve years old, digging in the garden.
*“Hello! Want a spade? The soil’s lovely today—perfect for tomatoes,”* she said, beaming.
It hit me like lightning. This girl—Emmeline—was everything I wasn’t. Bright, hardworking, full of life. She took me under her wing, showing me how to weed, milk the goat, hang herbs to dry. She’d lost her father young, been ill for years, yet never complained. She was stronger than I’d ever been.
Something shifted in me. I woke early, fed the chickens, laughed as we worked the garden. Then one night, she fell ill—fever raging, weak as a kitten. I stayed by her side, refusing to leave. And in that moment, I realised—I wasn’t the same person anymore.
Six months later, I barely recognised myself. The boy who’d mocked simple joys now found happiness in watching flowers bloom. I went back to the city, studied to be a teacher—*me*, of all people—and somehow, it worked. Now I’ve got my own class, students who still visit me years later. A wife—Eliza—two kids, a life.
And Emmeline? She’s my stepsister now. Dad married her mum. I’m her big brother, her best friend. Every time I see her, I remember—she saved me. Not Dad, not hardship—but her, a little girl with a spade in her hands.
Funny, how one meeting changes everything. And no matter how lost you are, it’s never too late to start again. Even at twenty. Even when you’ve been nothing. You just need someone to show you how to live.