Aug 13, 2012 by


Fact: Baby seagulls are gray. They are loud, fluffy and, at times, so big and near adult-size that the only thing differentiating them from adults is their color, gray.

Sunday morning, at the beginning of a walk talk with my love, we came across two huge ones milling about on the rocks jutting out of the ocean.

“Look,” I say, “those are baby seagulls!”

“Are you sure?” Marc asks. “They don’t look ‘baby’ to me. I can’t imagine them any bigger.”

“Yeah . . . I think so.” Suddenly, looking at their size and not their color, I second guess myself. Maybe I’m wrong about that. “I guess they are pretty big, though.”

We continued down the waterfront trail, doing what we always do during our times together, walking and soaking in the sun. We talked, we wished, we planned, we confessed and we laughed. As life would have it, it seems that this is the season for newness for so many, many of our family members. Newness, or transition.

As Marc and I thought about our older son and his wife, we shared our wishes for the new season they are approaching . . .quite literally. As a Graduate Assistant coach for the University of Oklahoma, Ry is getting ready for some football. As a die hard Buff fan, I never thought I’d say (and mean) it, but I’m really hoping for a winning, incredible, fulfilling season for the Sooners. I mean, I want them to WIN! I want Ry to have the time of his life on a winning program. I want Tara to be embraced by that community in electrifying, crimson and cream, touch down celebrating ways. I want joy, joy, joy for them. And success in all they do.

Cole is entering a new and final season, a senior at University of Chicago. We can’t believe how the time has flown. This year is one of conclusion . . . and a stepping-stone to “what next.” Marc and I shared our hopes for him, cast a vision of what his life might be if, should, could. A senior. Something new, different, exciting is right around the corner.  Wow.

Then we talked about us. Us, as in Marc – recently promoted and trying to figure his new role out, and Nicole – recently employed and trying to figure things out. And, “Us” – as in husband, wife, lovers, friends, and partners. As we ruminated over budgets, committed to areas for growth, and imagined ourselves in five years, we took in the young mothers pushing strollers enjoying the last few days of Seattle’s too short summer, lovers lazily reclining in green grass resting hands on bellies and lips on lips, dogs playfully fetching waterlogged wooden sticks.

A couple of Seattle Samurai.

Life. It moves, is moving.

An hour and a half later, Marc and I were where we began, at the beginning of our walk/talk.  Wouldn’t you know it, the baby seagulls were too, all fluffy and gray. This time, we were sure they were babies, because standing near them was their momma.

“Look!,” I squeal. “Momma!”

And, momma was doing what mommas do. There, on the rocks, she regurgitated some fleshy sea creature and the big, gray babies ate at her feet. I couldn’t believe how lucky we were to see it. I couldn’t believe we were privy to the end, had our questions answered (are those baby gulls?), and got to see – beyond a doubt – a full circle moment. Life isn’t always so obvious, is it?

As we, I approach this new season of beginnings, we only know now . . . like right now, as I’m typing or you are reading, I mean.   That’s it.  Right now.  We cast the vision, set the goals, make the plans and hope, imagine, and do our best to meet them. We ask the questions (if we even know them . . . .   I can remember.) and wait for the answers, should they come. Sometimes, like yesterday, we’re lucky and get to see it. Sometimes the journey between the question and answer is longer . . . or never ends.

Who knows, but walk/talk anyway.

And, enjoy the scenery as you do. It’s the journey that counts.

Peace and Blessings,


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