The Other Half of My Heart by Dariana A.

At times like these, I don’t want old memories to appear in my head like a slideshow. But they do anyway and it gets infuriating.

Even though the car ride would only take at least six hours, it felt like my Mom was driving faster than the train that me and my Daddy saw when were at a car shop in Downtown.

I remember that day as if it only happened seconds ago. Mom needed to buy a new car before it’s time to give up her rental minivan.

Dad pointed to a train that zoomed like a dozen of race cars crossing the finish line. It was more or less of a dusty, old train with different colored carts, but it seemed almost like a time machine to me. It was unusual and out-of-this-world to me.

But now; everything’s going to change. Daddy and my Mom are breaking up.

I remember how nights ago, Daddy broke the news to me. His reasons seemed almost prejudiced even though they were true. There was a great ire in me. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t even want to sleep next to him like we did every night.

Sometimes I wish that the right to drink alcohol was never revoked. I hated the fact that beer destroys family.

But the past is the past. God, I hate that fact! I wish that I could erase and then a write a whole, new different story.

Once upon a time, there was a princess who didn’t have a single friend. But she did have one! And that was her father, the king. They did almost everything together. So, since they loved each other so much, they spent the rest of their lives together.

That’s how I would’ve rewritten the story. But that’s just own fantasy.

But I don’t understand why my Papa would turn to drinking. I mean he was a Christian and the Bible was a deterrent for that.

Ever since then; Papa was always preoccupied with his drinking and going out with his friends.


We made it to the airport. This was about the toughest moment I’d ever go through.

Papa grabbed his luggage and we went with him inside. I tried to hold back tears but they’ve completely covered my face like a flood of water. I cried harder than the time I showered with a fever. I didn’t really appreciate that shower since the door was gauzy which meant that anyone who came in the bathroom saw you and figuring it out wasn’t very difficult.

Soon, we made it to the security check and from there; we had to say goodbye. I gave my Papa the tightest hug I’ve ever given him and cried even more.

I loved my Papa and I couldn’t imagine seeing him leave me. But I guess that’s just what beer does. Not only does it ruin you, but it ruins your family, too.

All of my memories of me and Papa hit me like a punching bag.

I remember the dark, brown, molasses-colored cake that we’ve made together. His guitar in which his music sounded like it could go heavenward because it was so soothing and loud.

Maybe Papa hasn’t left Jacksonville completely. “Why?” You may ask? Well, it’s because my Papa’s love for me is still in my memories… and Papa resides on “the other half” of my heart.