The Wrong Heart

by Jennifer Hartmann

The sun sets low in the sky, highlighting the horizon in a burnt orange blush. It captures my attention for a striking moment, and I reminisce my father’s words from all those years ago. Fleeting beauty. The most precious kind. But as my eyes dip away from the setting sun and take in the blur of smiles, laughter, and joy all around me, I realize something pretty fucking powerful. It’s all fleeting. Life, itself, is fleeting.

“Melody texted me to grab some on the way over because she knows it’s your favorite and she burned them. I couldn’t say no to her twenty-seven sad face emojis.” “She always gets you with the emojis.”

“You built this life, just like you built your home—from the ground up, with careful tools, hard work, and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears.” Her arm stretches outward, showcasing the fruits of my labor. “You put this here.” My chest thunders with enlightenment. I did this. I chose this life for myself—this was what was on the other side for me. This was what was shrouded beyond the hurdles of hardship. My heart. My hope. My real home. The truth is, I never truly had a home until I had her. I had four walls and a place to lay my head, but no place to lay my heart. I planted roots here, but those roots had nowhere to grow. They were stagnant and shriveling. Wilting. My life could have gone in so many other directions. I had the power to make different choices, take alternate routes. It would have been so easy to coast along those dark waters until I gave up the fight and let myself drown. But I chose to swim.

We hold the key to our own happiness, and what we put on the other side of that door is entirely up to us. Our beginning doesn’t have to be our end.

However small or insignificant, there’s always a glimmer of hope—of sweetness. A starting point to build from.

Holding them both tighter, I recall a hazy memory with my father as I sat beside him on the porch swing with a lapful of plump cherries and a mischievous pup at my feet. He told me that every time a breeze rolled through it was a zephyr—a gentle promise of new beginnings.

Winter doesn’t last forever. Spring is coming. It took a long fucking time to find my new beginning—my starting point. My blooming magnolia in a field of wilting and decay. But I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing… because everything led me to her. To them.

I grin. “So intrusive.” She nuzzles in closer, her fine hairs tickling my chin as a chuckle breaks free. “Like the sun, right?” My arms encase her body, pulling her as close as possible. I breathe in her citrusy musk, her flowery skin, and the warmth that bleeds from every inch of her. “Yeah… that’s right.”

Melody will always be the sun, shining bright, a beautiful new beginning. But above all, she is my moon. The perfect end.

Home. They say that home is where the heart is… And I know I found them both when I found her.