I have had an unexpected and uninvited visitor every day this week. It is a seagull. I have never seen a gull here atop my hill before. The sea is far, far below us, visible but not audible. Why would a gull fly to the forest? Someone suggested that eating patterns have been disrupted now that there is less street food available to scavenge because of shelter-in-place. Maybe this gull has been scavenging off food left outside on a neighbor's deck. I'd prefer to believe it comes to visit me.
The seagull sits on the deck rail or perches on a pagoda-like candle holder that sits on my outdoor table. I have tried to get close enough for a good photo, but he appears to respect social distancing guidelines, for he flies off when I get within 6 feet. If I don't disrupt this clear distancing preference, he'll sit and stare in at me for 20 or 30 minutes at a stretch. I wonder what he is thinking.
What I like about his visits is the conversational sort of silence that grows between us. We are both clearly aware of the other's presence, and even curious, but never a word is spoken. I don't make up stories about him. I don't offer him a name, like Jonathan Livingston, and I am sure he doesn't offer me one, either. I love that we are silent, respectful, and somehow in deep harmony or communion.
Words are overrated when it comes to friendships. I fall into a meditative calm when the seagull arrives. I admire the immaculate white of his feathers and the red orange of his feet. It is enough. No judgment. Just silent company and appreciation.
Maybe this is as good as it gets while sheltering in place. Or maybe, just maybe, I should remember and cultivate this silent and non judgmental appreciation I have for a seagull when I next invite a friend into my home. There is a lot to be said for silence and acceptance. I have made friendship too complex. I have made demands. Sitting is silence and sharing the same view is really enough.
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