Forgot your password?

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

Sign in

  • There was an impossibly tall tree that grew in the middle of a yard belonging to my neighbors. As luck would have it, I played with the children of that house. We would be out on the porch and I remember looking up past the awning and seeing nothing but branches and green pine needles. I always imagined a tree house tucked somewhere in the middle, concealed by the abundant greenery.

    I was jealous of their tree.

    Years later, when they had moved and the house had been torn down and the tree had long been uprooted and wood-chipped, I looked over to the well-manicured yard -nearly half the original size- and found myself still yearning for a quiet place among the leaves.
    • 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.