Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I burned my first calendar in high school in the backyard of my best friend's house. I don't remember if it was New Years freshman year, when I went to the party the cops broke up, or New Years sophomore year, when we were locked out of his house and I had to jimmy open his bedroom window. It wasn't New Years senior year, when I kissed my now-wife for the first time. Maybe it was junior year.

    I've burned a calendar every New Years since—sometimes with friends, sometimes with my wife, sometimes with whomever is at the party I'm at, sometimes alone—as my way of releasing the ending year and starting the new year unburdened. A celebration of new beginnings, always so full of possibility.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.