I loved this peek into your before life- and though it may not feel as comfortable as your exquisite telling, you showed this wonderfully! Thank goodness for the prompts that push us, right? Ever grateful and inspired by you, friend. 💛
Thank you my friend. I appreciate you so very much. You inspire me too! Every time I sit down and think about writing to show, my mind drifts to your pieces. So, thank you for sharing your gift with us. You keep me showing up to the page 🩵🩵
Ahhhh thank you so much K!! I’m so glad you loved it! 🥰 It was a fun exercise for my memory too. I had to walk through it in my head to get it out on the page.
Mesa, it might feel odd, and still what stays with me most after this vivid glimpse into your room is the “Messy Mesa” sign. Someone you loved must have given it to you. I see it leaning there—quiet, present, constant. And I start to wonder how often your eyes met those words, how deeply they settled in.
To me, it feels like more than a nickname. I hear a message wrapped in charm—an identity gently assigned. One of those early roles we don’t choose, yet end up carrying. I know how often something like that becomes part of how we’re seen, even how we begin to see ourselves. Not always consciously, yet over time it shapes expectation. Shapes belonging. Shapes the way we move.
Even if meant with love or laughter, I sense a quiet pressure underneath—an encouragement to become more acceptable, more contained, more aligned with someone else’s idea of “order.” And I keep holding that. How language, even playful, lays down a track we end up walking for years.
Thank you friend. The irony in the sign is that I truly was messy, it was given to me by one of my best friends as a nod to the truth of me and to make me giggle - she succeeded in both. The reason I was so messy though was that I was afraid to throw anything away and afraid to put anything away because I was constantly moving back and forth from my grandma’s and my mom’s/step-dad’s houses. Also - my room was the only thing I could “control”, and my little act of rebellion was to be messy.
I loved this peek into your before life- and though it may not feel as comfortable as your exquisite telling, you showed this wonderfully! Thank goodness for the prompts that push us, right? Ever grateful and inspired by you, friend. 💛
Thank you my friend. I appreciate you so very much. You inspire me too! Every time I sit down and think about writing to show, my mind drifts to your pieces. So, thank you for sharing your gift with us. You keep me showing up to the page 🩵🩵
Wow, that's just about the kindest thing any fellow writer has ever said to me. Hand to heart, Mesa. xoxo
I LOVE the way you write exactly as your thoughts form dialogue!! It’s SO approachable, relatable, it feels like open arms.
Love this piece on Place and the “Messy Mesa” 🤍😍🎉
Ahhhh thank you so much K!! I’m so glad you loved it! 🥰 It was a fun exercise for my memory too. I had to walk through it in my head to get it out on the page.
I want to walk through other spaces now!! 😍😍😍
OMG you could make a mini series on spaces!! 😍 how cute would that be published … I can see the cover design now
Ooooooooo YES!!!!!! What are you seeing as the cover?!! Tell me tell me!!
Build something better from the rubble of lies... yes please! So good. All of it. ❤️
Thank you friend and all the yes!!!
What a lovely sentence, Mesa. ❤️❤️❤️
This is the exact antidote we need for these times.
To tell real stories. To share snapshots of the poetry of daily life.
Thank you 😭🩵 I appreciate you more than words can say 🩵
Mesa, it might feel odd, and still what stays with me most after this vivid glimpse into your room is the “Messy Mesa” sign. Someone you loved must have given it to you. I see it leaning there—quiet, present, constant. And I start to wonder how often your eyes met those words, how deeply they settled in.
To me, it feels like more than a nickname. I hear a message wrapped in charm—an identity gently assigned. One of those early roles we don’t choose, yet end up carrying. I know how often something like that becomes part of how we’re seen, even how we begin to see ourselves. Not always consciously, yet over time it shapes expectation. Shapes belonging. Shapes the way we move.
Even if meant with love or laughter, I sense a quiet pressure underneath—an encouragement to become more acceptable, more contained, more aligned with someone else’s idea of “order.” And I keep holding that. How language, even playful, lays down a track we end up walking for years.
Love you my friend xoxo Jay
Thank you friend. The irony in the sign is that I truly was messy, it was given to me by one of my best friends as a nod to the truth of me and to make me giggle - she succeeded in both. The reason I was so messy though was that I was afraid to throw anything away and afraid to put anything away because I was constantly moving back and forth from my grandma’s and my mom’s/step-dad’s houses. Also - my room was the only thing I could “control”, and my little act of rebellion was to be messy.
My outsides really matched my insides.