Forgot your password?

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

Sign in

  • Apparently, today is National I Forgot Day, a day to acknowledge oversights and beg for forgiveness. I would like to observe this quirky little holiday. I would love to apologize. I would love to beg for forgiveness; I just don't remember what I've forgotten.

    My memory's gotten hazy in recent years. Thing that I used to know seem to be fading, and the harder I try to find them, the farther they drift. I have learned to let go.

    I am sure that I have missed birthdays, anniversaries, births, deaths, and graduations.

    I have forgotten to say please. I have forgotten to say thank you. I have forgotten to acknowledge much less respond to letters, phone calls, texts, and email messages. A solid chunk of time, I have forgotten to open my mail. (At some point, I have to figure out where I put my jury summons.)

    I have forgotten to brush my teeth, my hair, and my winter coat, and I have forgotten to care.

    I have forgotten to use almost every single gift card ever given me. I have forgotten where I put them.

    I have forgotten what I need from the store, to move the reusable grocery sacks from one purse to another, and what I've done with my "loyalty cards."

    I have forgotten user ids. Passwords. How frustrated I get with malfunctioning software. How happy I am running and swimming and watching the sunset streak the sky. How much I enjoy watching the sun rise. How sweet it is to sleep in.

    Until last week, I had almost forgotten how much I loved my car and driving with the roof down, music up, and wind in my hair. Until last week, I had almost forgotten how much I love driving and how much I miss it.

    Every night, I forget how nauseated I am and every day I find myself surprised when a wave of nausea hits. I forget how tired I get. I forget that I'm strong and how it feels to rediscover with glee that I don't give myself nearly enough credit.

    I forget that other people don't walk as much as I do. I forget that I didn't walk this much, either, and that my body doesn't match the way that I feel.

    I forget that it's easier to give myself enough time to write in two places, not one, and to allow time for the reading that I love.

    I forget exactly where I was going with this, but if any of these omissions apply to you, please know that it wasn't personal. I am truly sorry. I hope that someday you might room in your heart to forgive and forget.
    • 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.