Boston and the Seagull
Boston across the water
A few days ago, Red Rock Park had me looking at the American flags flying at half-staff and thinking about Dolly Parton.
Today, I found myself looking across the same water at Boston.
Boston was there, beautifully distant. Its skyline rising across the water. Looking rather impressive and, from this distance, remarkably peaceful.
I stood there wondering about all those buildings and the thousands of lives inside them.
People rushing to work.
Making plans.
Checking their phones.
Worrying about things that may never happen.
And probably wondering what to have for dinner.
Then I turned around.
Apparently, this is all the view he needs.
There was a seagull.
Alone on a rock.
It seemed completely unconcerned about Boston, its skyline, its traffic, its deadlines. Or the question of what to have for dinner.
It had the sea.
It had the breeze.
It had its rock.
And, judging by the way it was standing there, it seemed quite satisfied with its evening.
I looked back at Boston.
Then at the seagull.
And for a moment I wondered who had the better view.
The city had millions of stories.
The seagull seemed to need only one.
Perhaps that’s the trouble with us humans. We keep looking for a better view while forgetting to enjoy the one we’re already standing in.
The seagull, meanwhile, appeared to have mastered the art of not overthinking things.
Maybe I should take notes.
WORDSOUPS 