Forgot your password?

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

Sign in

  • michelle and i would trade one of a pair of new earrings with each other and a collection grew. this little gifting had a number of people in the office scratching their heads. why? short of why not? it gave us joy, embraced us in happiness, not knowing where the other would wear it or when, but just knowing a part of us went with. "have one for me" comes close to how it worked. i would don the earring, step forth into the night and live it to the full, feeling her close in spirit. that is how it began.

    we worked together in the reception area for a company dealing in property. She was a short buxom brunette, masses of dark curls cascading down her back, dressed funky, extrovert, a blazing summer sun; i a lanky sheet-straight blonde, dressed conservatively, introvert, a pale slivered moon. often early in the morning, we would burst out laughing, noticing that we wore the same earring. it was never planned, it just panned out that way. those were the days when wearing white shoes with denims at the time was cool so why not just one earring too. and well, the earrings just added to the incongruity that was already there.

    to our clients we became quite a rage, a sight, a must-see. they would meet us first on their own, trying not to stare, unable to hide their glee. When they next arrived to do their business, friends and family trailed close behind. mich and i smiled inwardly, watching heads pop out from behind, eyes so trying not to stare, to compare, smiles wreathed before they could be wiped, aghast and smiling nods bobbed back and forth alike. critique or appreciation, never a thin line; the difference mattered none but clients who had never been in to the office now began to show up regularly and reception became way more fun, a lot more lively.
    we had thrown a pebble into a pond and grinned watching how the ripples spread, then laughing loud jumped right in and rode the swells instead.

    if one were to sit alone on a high rock and drop pebbles one by one into a pool, listening to the delightful plunk and watching in astonishment how far the ripples spread, would one step away when done and not share? would one forgo feeling the warm echo in a smile, seeing one's joy reflected in another's eyes? causing yet another ripple?
    in my honest opinion, most of those higher in loves and audiences are because they have the art of sharing right. and i give them a bold and emphatic tick, another notch on the graphical self-actualisation measuring stick. their writings be now larger stones, aye, good solid hefty rocks and the swells caused by ripples such as these, i ride, loving the feelings wrought by each.

    and i'm in it same as Ray.
    when i click to love, it is because i do, and in that little symbol you can see my joy for you, hear my squeal of delight, and know i giggle or laugh out right, my eyes agleam with understanding. maybe you can also see my tears and my want to embrace you, know my unarticulated wish to draw into me out from you all that is damaging.

    yea, i know, i suck as a writer.
    i've also searched the wording silly, looking for that word that rhymes with 'each'.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


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.