Those of you who have been reading my words for months may remember that I have a fetish:

Seagulls

When I moved to Gent in January of this year, I fell in love with those who soar.  I’d sit on my back terrace with the flow of wings.  Moments of heaven.

As spring turned into summer, almost all of my friends left.  Were they exploring the skies over Oostende, on the English Channel coast?  Probably.  Lots to eat on the ocean.

I was sad.  Would my second-most-favourite things about Gent ever return?  I didn’t have the local knowledge to say.

I became enamoured of pigeons, mourning doves, swallows and tiny darting things of the sky.  Most days only one or two gulls met my eyes.

I’ve been so cold lately (or so hot!)  My terrace is only a door away but I don’t want to go out there.  “I should want to” is a useless thought.  I simply need to hunker down and get better.

Late yesterday afternoon, as the sun was preparing to say au revoir, I needed to meditate. I sat in my bedroom chair … and shivered. Soon I was adorned with one hat, one sweater, two coats and mitts! My mind was far from the sweetness of meditation.

Here is what I saw:

I love the high transom windows. Across them, minute by minute, came a cavalcade of gulls. I welcomed them to my home. I thanked them for their beauty: the swooping flight, the tilt of the wings, the sunshine on the belly.

They knew I didn’t have the oomph to sit outside so they made sure my window view included them. Thank you, dear gullies, for saying “Hi.”

***

I expect that seagulls aren’t your shining light

But something is

Go find it