Seagulls

"Do you see that?"

"See what baby?"

"The sea, sweetheart."

"Yes, of course I do. It's right in front of us. I can see it. What about it but?"

He looked at her and smiled.

"It's huge, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm", she nodded, burying deeper into the sand, and his arms. "Mmm. Pretty sea."

"It isn't pretty."

She looked up at his face, staring far out into the horizon, thinking of what, she couldn't fathom. "Why isn't it pretty?" She asked, blinking her eyes innocently.

"The sea is dark."

"No it isn't dark. It's orange. It's sunset time dude. Stop being a jerk." And she laughed.

He pulled away from her and made her sit up straight. He looked into her eyes with a frigid intensity.

"The sea is a dark place. We think it's free, we think it's powerful, but it isn't. The sea is trapped. It can't leave the ocean and go travel the earth. It rages and rages all day, but it doesn't have a choice. The sea has to live with whatever and whoever loves it and accepts it. The rocks on that cliff. Or the sands on the shore. Or people like us on this beach. And those seagulls."

She looked towards the cliff where he pointed. Hundreds of seagulls were crowded there, white and huge and regal. Some perched atop rocks, some taking off, some landing and some merely creating a ruckus in that tiny world of their own.

"Mmm. Pretty seagulls." She smiled at them, and then at him. She tried to go back into his arms, but he kept her at an arm's length.

"Yeah, the seagulls are pretty. See how free, how liberated they are?"

"Mmm hmm."

"They are an awkward breed."

"Why so?"

"They can fly to every end of the earth, if earth had an end, that is. They can fly to Rome, perch on the Eiffel Tower in Paris, tour through the Colosseum or even go shit on tourists at the Taj. But what do they do instead? Fly all over the sea, and return to the beach. Every single day. They have their choices, they have their freedom, but they choose to stay here, loving the sea till the end of their lives. While the sea, despite its vastness, stays stuck, trapped, and in its morbidity, refuses to love the seagull. No matter how hard he may try, he can't love it back."

"The sea is a stupid thing."

"Is it?" He asked her, smiling sadly. If only she knew.

"Mmmm hmm. You can't MAKE yourself love someone. You either do, or you don't," she said. Like I can't make myself, he thought. "Now shut up. Enough philosophy for today," and she snuggled back up to him, where she felt safe and secure. He let her, this once, shaking his head mournfully, thinking Alright, one last time.

She was the blissfully ignorant seagull.

He was the helplessly stubborn sea.