DEAR DIARY

Catherine was at a low point in her life and decided that a proper clear-out would do her the world of good

Catherine stepped up into the cupboard, her arms stretching into a musty darkness. It was one of those old built-in storage cupboards, the width of a door, but the depth of outer space; a place you could get lost in for light years.

Time capsules crammed with the past floated around her knees and ears in the shape of tattered boxes and faded bags. She grabbed at the highest box and stumbled back down to earth.

Waking early and restless on the cold February morning, condensation misting the windows of her cosy house, Catherine shrugged on her warmest dressing gown and leopard print slippers and ventured downstairs with a grizzling stomach. Every chinking spoon and closing door seemed to echo round the house since Rick had left. It hadn’t been the ideal start to the New Year.

Since Rick’s new job as a travelling sales rep, they’d grown apart both in distance and emotionally. It had been upsetting, realising it, but in the end they knew the best thing for both of them was to make their own fresh beginnings.

That was difficult to do when you didn’t know which route to take and Catherine’s hopeful New Year resolutions had already fallen by the wayside.

Over breakfast she flicked through an unread magazine left on the kitchen table weeks ago. An article on “how to declutter your life” piqued her interest. It suggested even tidying up just one messy cupboard could make a difference to how you felt. She thought of the spare room cupboard; a place stacked to the ceiling with goodness knows what. There was no question that needed a sort out.

And it would at least fill half of her empty day; that was surely worth a go.

Catherine heaved the dusty carton into the centre of the small bedroom, and kneeled over it, curious.

The box flaps were un-taped and as she flicked them open her eyes scanned its contents: old mix tapes from her teenage years, a sleepy soft toy bear, and old books with yellow spotting the edge of their pages.

As she rifled further into the box, pulling out a handful of school exercise books, a smaller thicker notebook thumped to the floor.

Catherine picked it up, a funny sensation tingling up her arms as she remembered what it was; it was her old diary.

She smiled, curling back the first few pages. She’d only written in it for a year when she was sixteen, but it was the place she’d shared her most secret thoughts and dreams.

Catherine almost felt like she was secretly spying on her younger self as her eyes flicked and dotted across the swirly handwriting littered with exclamation marks, cloud bubbles, stars and hearts…

What I want to do with my life

1. Be a successful writer

2. Marry my dream man in a fairytale wedding

3. Live in a big house with our children

4. Travel the world

5. Be happy

Catherine’s eyes filled with tears. Had she let her younger self down?

After uni, she’d taken a job in admin to get some money together to go travelling, but then she’d met a handsome man who she’d put her dreams on hold for.

As the years passed, she had forgotten about writing, split with her boyfriend and then met Rick. They’d saved hard for their small house and talked about marriage and kids one day.

She couldn’t even say she’d achieved goal number 5 on the list, because Catherine couldn’t remember the last time she’d even laughed hysterically at something like she had dome with her friends as a teenager.

She pushed the diary back into the box, trying to push her thoughts away too. It was too late for all that now. Catherine spent the rest of the day sorting the contents of the cupboard into various piles. Anything she didn’t need she would give away, and tomorrow she would go and buy some pretty baskets to keep the remainder of her things in.

She could already visualise how neat and tidy the cupboard would look when she’d finished, and it did surprisingly, make her feel a whole lot better.

By the evening her head felt the clearest it had in months. Energy buzzed inside her. And earlier thoughts of the diary pushed back into her head.

She still harboured some of those secret dreams – to be a writer, to fall in love, to see the world.

Maybe the diary wasn’t a souvenir of the life she hadn’t lived, maybe it was the reminder she’d really needed.

Catherine smiled; there was an amazing life just waiting for her.

All she had to do was just follow her dreams.

She pushed the diary back into the box, pushing her thoughts away too