5 Ways to Help Someone Know They Matter
Drawn from stories that remind us how connection begins with quiet gestures.
I once went to a gathering where someone had set out an extra chair. Not for a late arrival. Not for a guest of a guest.
It was just… there.
No one sat in it. But we all noticed it.
Later, I asked, and the host said, “I always set one more. Just in case someone needs a place.” That chair stayed with me.
This week, I’ve been thinking about what it means to make space. Not just physically—but emotionally. In friendships. In everyday life. I’ve wrapped these thoughts into my Daily Dose of Fiction, published first as Substack Notes and then combined into one post. You can read any stories you missed here. LINK
Here are some outtakes from these stories.
Skylar showed up at Val’s house with pruning shears and lemonade. She didn’t wait to be asked. She just started trimming the overgrown salvias beside her friend, because some help needs to arrive uninvited.
Riley tore through every drawer looking for wildflower seeds she’d bought to honor her mother. They turned up later—tucked in a forgotten pocket of her mother’s old apron.
At the community center, a stranger named Sue cried over a cracked pot and a dying basil plant. It wasn’t really about the pot. It rarely is.
Val shared how she nearly moved south of the border to start her retirement. A condo. Fully furnished. Instead, she came to Echo Canyon.
Raven insisted on taking the long way to the garden. She and Ben gathered cactus fruit and traded stories about Aunt Jo, who taught them how to grow things that survive anything.
And on Sunday, Riley set an extra chair on the patio. “Just in case,” she said.
She didn’t say for who.
I’ve been that person. The one who didn’t know I belonged. The one who kept quiet. The one who didn’t even realize she needed a seat until someone made one available.
That’s what this week’s stories were really about.
Making space.
For the friend who doesn’t ask for help.
For the feelings we don’t quite understand.
For the version of ourselves we’re still becoming.
For the people we miss.
For the ones we haven’t met yet.
We don’t always know who that chair is for. Sometimes it’s someone far away. Sometimes it’s someone right in front of us.
Sometimes—it’s us.
What if we all made room for one more?
I like the extra chair…for the seen and unseen visitor, thought, need, etc. nice!
This resonated me very deeply. That was so kool to hold space for someone. It's important that we hold space for ourselves and for others who need that. It's also a start to building a community where wombmen feel safe, connected to like minded people, a place where you can be your authentic self, unapologetically you not fearing judgement. It's time that wombmen start coming together and doing that. It's a good thing knowing that there are those who hold space for you on so many levels. It's been an important part of my journey.