From overhead he heard the incessant squawking of birds. That could get annoying, he mused, rolling down the window and craning his neck to look upward. What was making all that racket? Seagulls, of course. The sound reminded him of being on the boat with Grandpa, the eerie experience he had the day after Grandpa's funeral and another conversation he had with his grandfather many years ago.
Tell me again about the seagulls, Grandpa, when you were on the big boat in New York. It was called a ferry, son. It took people and cars across the harbor from Manhattan to a place called Staten Island. There were always lots of seagulls in the harbor. Some people don't like them; they don't sound very pretty, do they? But I love seagulls. I love how free they are, the way the swoop down and then shoot up into the air so high. Some of the happiest times of my life were spent riding that ferry! And you know? There was one seagull that seemed to stay right above my head, like he was watching over me to be sure I got safely to the other side. Every time I saw him, I would think of a couple of words from an old poem I knew a long time ago, something about flotsam and jetsam and buoys and gulls. Wish I could remember the whole thing … I think it would make you laugh. Maybe someday a seagull will find you and make sure you get where you need to be.
An inspirational, uplifting story of a well-kept secret, a lifelong love affair, a daughter and a grandson.
What Jared Fowler’s children and grandson discover will change their lives forever.