“No Love in Stock” – Postcard Prose #1

Mexico, D.F. June 29, 1938

Dear V.L. — Does the other side remind you of anything? I took a look at the stock market report before we left and decided you wouldn’t be traveling this summer. Correcto? It is more the second time than the first — so far, anyway. Good luck.    Hannah W Rowell

Victor read the postcard with some disdain. Hannah always knew how to push his buttons, even when she was thousands of miles away. He tossed the postcard onto his kitchen counter with a sigh, and took a step toward the small kitchen window that faced the front yard.

He pulled at the neck-tie around his shirt collar, undoing the knot, and whipping the tie onto the blue-and-white checkered floor with frustration as he watched a few of his friends – Tom Everett and Hank Crenshaw – surround Mr. Maney’s new automobile – the same shiny black 1931 Mercedes-Benz 770 that used to sit in Victor’s own driveway.

I’ve got to get out of here, he thought.

Victor and his family could have traveled to Mexico for a week with his sister Hannah and her husband Carl, but because of some poor investments he had made in the stock market the month before, he’d lost so much money that he had to sell his own brand new automobile in order to pay the bills, and put food on the table for him, his wife, and his two sons.

Instead of rolling around the town in his luxurious automobile, he was stuck taking the bus like the blue-collars that lived over in Griffin Valley. That alone made him an embarrassment to his wealthy neighbors, and the fact that his family wouldn’t even be able to go on vacation at least once this summer, made it an even more shameful time in the Lund family.

He peeled his eyes away from the window, sick of seeing the glorification of Maney’s new possession, but they fell on Hannah’s black-and-white postcard, where there were rows and rows of wonderful looking automobiles, none of which Victor could afford anytime soon. Aggravated, he shoved the postcard across the counter away from his sight.

“Victor, what’s that?”

Turning, he threw a glare at Betty, his wife, then dropped his eyes to the floor, muttering, “Nothing.”

Poor Betty. She tried her best to comfort Victor, to assure him that losing the money didn’t matter; that all that mattered was that their family was safe and provided for, even if things were a little tight. But because Victor was born into wealth; he wasn’t used to money being scarce or inaccessible. Having to make wise financial decisions was never something he’d had to experience or consider.

He no longer wanted to spend time with their neighbors or friends, who graciously invited them to dinner several times a week after Victor’s investment in the stock market fell through.

“They’re pitying us, Betty,” he had argued, ” that’s the only reason why they’re inviting us, and I refuse to sit there, and have our family looked at like we’re some kind of charity case!”

He became impossible to please, and distraught when the household liquor cabinet was finally cleared of its last bottle. He had polished it off all on his own in record timing. And he seemed to stay out of the house more often, spending less and less time with her and the children.

Betty’s assurances and encouragements seemed more like weakness to Victor, and she eventually refused to discuss all financial matters with him to spare their sons from hearing their quarrels. So when Victor replied, “Nothing,” she simply looked at the floor as he had done, and didn’t question him further.

Victor sighed and was about to ask Betty what was for dinner, when there was a sharp knock at the front door.

Both Betty and Victor headed toward the foyer, but Betty assured Victor, “I’ve got it, dear.”

Any and all financial disagreements and arguments that Betty had tried to avoid with Victor would all come to a head after Betty opened that door to the visitor standing on their front step, who came to deliver the news that if their mortgage wasn’t paid by next week, they’d be asked to leave their home.

Betty and Victor engaged in a yelling match that exploded from the lack of communication on both of their parts. Amidst this fury, Victor’s gambling problem was unearthed, explaining his absence from the home, and the looming threat of being evicted. Betty couldn’t understand how Victor could be so careless, especially during this particular time in their family’s history, and Victor couldn’t understand why Betty couldn’t have been more helpful lately in making the financial decisions.

If she’d been a better contributor, he wouldn’t have gone out and gambled to try to earn more than they had. If he’d just talked to her, and stopped being so distant, she would have felt more open to communicate her advice.

They were both so occupied with blaming each other for the lack of financial responsibility, that they’d forgotten about William and George, their ten- and eight-year-old sons, who sat on the polished, oak-wooden staircase next to the kitchen door, listening to every angry, frustrated, hurt, and accusatory word, and wondering if their parents would stop arguing long enough to remember that none of them had eaten dinner yet.


💙 Mishy 🦋

Postcard Prose: The Introduction

So…now that I’m back on my writing game here…how about a new series?

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a series of posts, but I’m excited to get back into it. Although I have an array of creative outlets (so much so, it’s difficult for me to keep up with them all), I want to make sure that I’m always writing something. And I want my writing to grow in all sorts of ways, not just poetry/spoken word-wise.

So, how about some fiction writing? Oo, I get goosebumps because it’s been a minute since I’ve written anything in the fiction genre, so this is exciting and also intimidating.

Anyways, onto the series…


Let me give you some context about how this series is starting:

Almost a year ago, Bria was visiting Savannah back when I was still living there, and I was spending the night at her house. She told me she had a gift for me, and gave me these postcards she’d found in a stamp collector store in Napa.

But they weren’t just any postcards; these postcards had already been written on and sent to people with small details of their trip, or replies from a postcard already sent.

A few months ago, I went back home to Tybee Island, and my friends and I went into one of the shops that I honestly never really frequented when I lived there. And lo and behold, in several boxes, there were some postcards, and some of them had been written on just like the ones Bria had given to me! So I bought a few to add to the postcard collection, and to the blog series!

So every day, until I run out of postcards, I will be writing a fiction piece inspired by a postcard I randomly pick from the bunch!

I give Bria full credit for this series, because she gave these postcards to me thinking they would be really good writing practice. And here I am, making it a series on the blog. We’re both excited, and hope that you are too!

Looking forward to diving back into the fiction writing realm! Let’s do this!

💙 Mishy 🦋

Take Your Time

The night before my new site went live, I leaked my recorded spoken word “Some Nights…” to several girls who had been supporting me from the beginning of my process and journey towards this goal.

Many sweet comments were shared, but there was one in particular that truly encouraged me. 

This girl encouraged me to not feel rushed to release more stuff, but to take my time. She told me that those who truly supported me would be patient enough to wait as I prepared myself for what was to come. 

And even though my main concern that night was the website and spoken word dropping the next morning, I did realize that there was this unspoken pressure in the back of my mind that made me feel like I would have to continue to release pieces of mine sort of soon in order to stay relevant, to continue being a topic of conversation, and not just fall through the cracks.

But I would rather take my time in prayer, planning, and processing than throw stuff out there that wasn’t the same quality as the stuff I initially released. I am a perfectionist, after all.

Relief has swept over me through this sweet comment, and even though I do have a lot more work to do, I am more excited than nervous or fearful to continue working. 

It’s back to the drawing board for me. But some awesome stuff is coming up, and I cannot wait! 

But even with all of this excitement, I’m even more excited to take my time through this. To really embrace every portion of this process, and fall in love with working hard for where I want to be at the end of all of this. 

Time to get to it!

💙 Mishy 🦋

“Some Nights…”

Sometimes…it still hurts.

On nights when I’m alone at home,
Simply writing or scrolling through my phone…

I think of you.

Especially when I’m on Instagram and I’m searching for a photo for my blog but I end up seeing that picture of you and I. And I don’t know why I keep it up there.
Maybe it’s because I still care.
It’s been a minute since I spoke to you or you spoke to me, so every time you come into my thoughts I just, let it be.
I still pray for you; I always do.
And I wonder sometimes if you ever pray for me too, or if you’ve completely moved on and never think about me. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever see you again.
Even though we live in the same town, I never seem to see you around.

I have moved on, don’t mistake that. There are just days…well, mostly nights when I still want you back.
Because I don’t deny that I ever loved you. And I don’t deny that I ever wonder what it would have been like if wed stuck it out.
If we’d both pushed past our personal doubts and just tried to make it work.
Honestly because of where each of us was, I think it would still end with both of us hurt.

Don’t think I never loved you, or never thought or think about you.
Because sometimes…I still do.
And I don’t do it to torture myself, or to find and excuse to be sad or mad or feel hurt and used.
Despite all that happened…you’re still my friend. A brother-in-Christ who’s inspired me. Without knowing you held my hand through six to seven months of anxiety and fear. There were too many times I cried too many tears.

But I’m over it. I’m better now.

Because there was Someone better who gently pulled me away from you. Who took my hand out of yours because I wasn’t strong enough to,
Admit that you were killing me.

I was killing me.

Always thinking and wondering and caring about you. So much so that it was difficult for me to see myself dying away.
No but these days, I think of you differently because I think of me differently. I care for myself because I care about the God I belong to, and how I’m living for Him. I am beginning to understand that He is all my life stands for.
Nothing less, but so much more.
All I say and do, should be dictated by whether I am praising and pleasing my Savior.
Not you.

I no longer waste my time trying to love those who don’t even try to love me back. I’ve been blessed abundantly with family and friends, who would chase after me for days on end, not because I have something to offer them or, because they receive gifts that I always send. 

They love me for me. Simply because I am me. 

And I don’t fret over whether you love and care about me because I am set on loving and caring for myself. I’ve learned that self-love is one of the strongest there is. It isn’t as healing as my Father’s agape love, but it certainly still heals in ways another person’s love could never make me feel. 

So yes…sometimes and some nights…it still hurts. 
But it doesn’t hurt for long. 

💙 Mishy 🦋

Cabo Vacation Re-Cap

Hey guys!

Honestly, this isn’t the first post I wrote for today; I wrote something about post-vacay depression because it hit me really hard as soon as I got back to my apartment this afternoon. I tried to ease back into my normal by unpacking and doing laundry, trying to get things in order, and setting aside clothes for church tomorrow, and each activity made my heart ache even more than before.

But How Was Cabo Tho?

Cabo was AMAZING. I posted a lot of pictures on Instagram about what we were doing almost every day (sorry not sorry) – snorkeling, driving ATVs, riding a boat to the beach and a few famous Cabo sites, getting a massage, relaxing by the poolside – these images can’t even do the trip justice. It was a vacation each one of us needed, especially since we hadn’t been together for a long time.

A few people wondered if I would vlog the trip, and even though it would have made a really sweet vlog, there were a couple of reasons why I didn’t vlog…

  1. Cameras: Unfortunately, I’ve lost my cameras, and I think they’re lost for good. I’ve tried all that I can to relocate them, but I think they’re gone, guys. I sometimes still have waves of worry and hurt because of my perfectionism: “It’s my fault that I don’t have them anymore, and how could I have been so careless and forgetful about where I had them?” but I’m slowly getting over it. You may be thinking, “Mishy, you could have just filmed on your iPhone…it takes HD videos too.” But here’s where number two comes in…
  2. Presence: I would have been totally distracted during my vacation had I tried to vlog most of the time. Sure, I was still a little distracted taking pictures, and even with some things like the song with SodTp dropping, and promoting my website dropping next week. But, I would have worried more about what my vacation looked like than what it actually was. And I know that would have regretted doing that, even if the footage would have been amazing.

So, no vlogging on vacation. I just think I enjoyed myself more than if I had tried to. I hope to get back to it, though, once I can get some things in order. I’ve just got a lot going on right now, and it’s hard to juggle everything at once.


I walked into my apartment, weary of the short trek I’d taken from my car and up the stairs to my front door. I dreaded hearing the empty echoes of my footsteps across the living room floors, and the silence met with me shuffling along to get myself and my stuff through the door and to my room.

A curtain of relief fell upon my shoulders as I heard the quiet voice of one of my roommates, who was sitting in her bedroom. It didn’t completely take the emptiness I was feeling away, but it did cheer me up.

Since coming home this afternoon, I’ve been doing laundry, taking inventory of my pantry for grocery shopping tomorrow, and organizing/cleaning things in my room. I tried to listen to some music, but a lot of what I wanted to listen to reminded me of my trip and my friends, and it was too sentimental. I swear, I’ve been on the verge of tears all afternoon.

I’m so grateful for the time I had last week. I’m grateful for the concert I went to before I traveled, and all of the traveling safety that the Lord provided. And right now, I’m trying to be grateful to be home. But I’m really struggling. So much so that I’m scrambling to find new music to listen to, I’ve ordered pizza and ice cream for myself, started a new Netflix show to keep my away from reality, and talked to my best friend (whom I just saw yesterday, mind you) for almost an hour-and-a-half.

The post-vacay depression is so real.

I have such a hard time when exciting things end, as I’m sure everyone else does. Like when a concert is over, everyone is sad because they don’t want it to be over. I expressed my sadness to my roommate, and explained that I would rather have something else exciting happen, or my work week immediately start than admit that the exciting event or concert or vacation is over.

And after briefly talking with her about it, and sitting here eating pizza and watching The Carmichael Show on Netflix to try to suppress the sad feelings, I realize that I really need to process through what’s happened, no matter how much it hurts…

I went to a concert last Friday, and had a blast.

The next morning, I flew out to Mexico, and spent one whole week doing things I’d never done in a place I’d never been before. I laughed harder than I’d laughed in a while. While I was in Mexico, the week back home was normal – work was still happening. My friends were going about their daily lives. I missed one whole normal week here at home in exchange for the best summer vacation I’ve ever had.

And now it’s over. And yes, it’s sad that it’s over – my best friend is back in our hometown for another week. I’m preparing myself mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually for this new upcoming week (even though I am slightly pushing the feelings down with food and Netflix). Even writing out this blog is helping me accept what my reality is.

Next week is a big week; there are only a few days left until some major things happen. In order for things to run smoothly, I need to allow myself the time to ease back into my normal routine, even if I don’t like the feeling of it. Even if it makes my  heart ache, and miss the times and experiences I had.

Praising the Lord that this post-vacay depression is slowly starting to ease up. I think every hour back home makes it a little easier on me.

I’m done with vacation. Now I’m back on the grind.

💙 Mishy 🦋

“To Be Yourself” (“April 9” poem)

Good morning from Cabo San Lucas, Mexico!

I’ve been here for a couple of days already, but I haven’t been blogging because of all the busyness. But here I am! I hope your week has gotten off to a great start.

My week has started off rather lovely. For those who don’t know, I wrote a poem that has been featured in a song titled “April 9” created by SodTp (you can find it on Spotify and iTunes under the artist name “SodTp”). Only pieces of the poem have been used for the song, so here is the full-version of the poem!

I hope that “April 9” and “To Be Yourself” speak to you and inspire you in some way, shape, or form. Even though it’s difficult to want to be someone else or have what someone else has, or to hear those criticisms from the people in your life, you are you, and it’s time to embrace who you are and where you are in life.

And I’ve said this so many times, but THANK YOU to SodTp for the opportunity to share my words on this track, to the people who’ve been following SodTp and now follow me and have expressed such love and support

I give you, “To Be Yourself.”

To Be Yourself

There are days in which I wish that I could
Sit in the skin of another person.
There are times I wanna
Take pieces and parts of other people,
And place them on top of me to
Hide what’s within.
To hide my soul.
To hide who I really am.

And I know sometimes you get like that too.
You’d rather be somebody else than
Embrace everything that you are.
But you don’t need to look farther than yourself.

It’s time to stop frontin’;
To stop pretending to be somethin’ or
Or someone you’re not.
You’re the only you the world has to claim.
There may be someone out there who has the
Same name as you but
You were intricately woven and
Uniquely designed, yes,
There are things in this world you were specifically chosen for.
But you gotta stop lookin’ everywhere else to
Be who you wanna be.

To be yourself.

#MishyWrites #April9

💙 Mishy 🦋

So Much Stronger.

I was reading my Bible this morning, and as I was flipping towards Acts (where I am currently reading), I opened up in Matthew, and a note card lay there.

On one side was a small list of “Jesus is…” notes I had made back when I was on Tybee Island. And on the other side in yellow Sharpie, these words were written:

“You are SO MUCH STRONGER than what he makes you feel like.”

I had to think about the context of this note card, and once I remembered, it amazed me to think how far I’d come since this situation.

These words were from a friend of mine, who had just heard the recent developments that I’d given her about the circumstance, and this was one of the lines she’d sent me in her many text messages. I wrote it down on a note card, and stuck it on my bedroom wall back on Tybee to remind me of the conversation, and to remind me that it was definitely true.

And as soon as I saw this note card, I knew I wanted to write about it. I knew I wanted to share it and the thoughts I had about it with people I knew were going through a similar situation I went through.

But this note card and its saying honestly speak volumes to me; because the “he” could be “it” or “they.” As a Christian, I believe that I am so much stronger than what I feel like sometimes – I’m so much stronger than the feelings of worry or fear. I am so much stronger than the circumstances of my life because I depend on the power of Jesus. I am more than a conqueror.

Now, of course, there are days when I don’t believe it as much. The world can really push my and your buttons sometimes, and our situations can make us believe that we are inadequate to handle them. They can make us feel that we are weak, incapable of getting out of the hole that we’ve found ourselves at the bottom of, unsure of how we got there. And I think it’s helpful as Christians to be reminded that, yes, although we are humans who make mistakes, we have the Holy Spirit instilled in us to help us through our circumstances, to push us further than we could on our own, to make us braver than we ever could be.

Yes, with the Holy Spirit, we are SO MUCH STRONGER than we could ever imagine. And thinking all of this makes me really want to challenge myself to affirm this thought every day. Because it’s easy to say, “Well, yeah, I have the Holy Spirit, and He’s powerful…,” but to really rest in that, and to live moment by moment, even through the difficulties of life, knowing that the capability to surpass that loneliness, that rejection, that fear of failure is within me? I mean, how powerful is that? I feel like it’s so powerful, I’m not even sure I can comprehend it in this life, but I pray that I can have a glimpse of it.

So tonight, I want to assure you – yes, you, dear reader – that you are SO MUCH STRONGER than whatever is going on in your life right now. That you are capable of moving past the hurt that others have brought upon you. That you are secure enough and strong enough to surrender your worries and fears to the Lord because He cares for you.

Through Christ, you are SO MUCH STRONGER than…[fill in the blank].


💙 Mishy 🦋