Please support us — Become a Citizen.

Forgot your password?

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




Copy and paste the following code wherever you'd like this story to appear.

Sign in

  • When we bought our first house, we went to the house every night for a week straight, to paint.

    Every wall.

    In every room.

    Eric would always get there before me. And I would stop and bring dinner for us. And we'd scarf it down quickly before getting to work with the paint.

    Eric always starts his day much earlier than me, so he'd usually leave me for an hour or two by myself while he got a few hours of sleep.
    Just before I would call it a night, I would sit for a little while, just listening to the paint settling into the walls.
    That and just being thankful. For everything.

Collecting stories is a way to gather your favorite Cowbird stories into shareable collections — kind of like assembling personal anthologies.

You can see some of our favorite collections here.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    px wide
    px tall
    Embed code (copy and paste into your web page)
    Would you like to send another?

      Sprouting a story is a way to respond to one story with a story of your own — kind of like sitting around a campfire and following the flow of conversation.

      To sprout stories, please become a Citizen.

          Better browser, please.

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