A Foursome of Seagulls

As I watched a flock of ducks heading out from the shore of the pond in the park behind our home to feed and float at dawn , four white seagulls gracefully soared overhead, darting here and there behind the trees, rising up and around each other. It was such a sight of beauty and calm that it made me pause at the window.

Where did they come from? We live almost 40 miles west of Chicago’s lakefront which is full of seagulls who have made their way down the St. Lawrence Seaway and pose picturesquely on the beaches. But those seagulls are raucous and bothersome, swooping down on picnickers and small children to pluck at food and wrappers.  This foursome is silent and almost ephemeral as they rise and turn at sunrise. Almost ghostly or even angelically.

We spent the weekend in the town my husband was raised, attending an annual Labor Day Picnic at his old parish. vsiting relatives and neighbors, driving along back roads, visiting graves.

I wonder.  The four seagulls are gone now, but I remember.

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