Posted October 29, 2002

During the summer, my grandparents used to visit us, or we'd visit them in Williamsburg, Va.

I adored Grandfather. Momma had some sharp things to say about him, but she had the sense to wait until I'd been out on my own awhile and could still admire his gusto despite recognizing a few faults. He was a big, bald man with thick glasses, a warm firm voice, a passion for ice cream and as much energy as two or three ordinary people. He was also an enthusiastic cyclist who'd taught me to ride a bike during one of his stays in Murray, Ky.

On one of our visits, when I suppose I was 10 or 12, he took it in his head that he and I should take a spin to Jamestown. And, since he didn't own a car and we'd flown in, that meant a spin on bikes. My mother thought the trip would be too much for me to manage. Grandmother, a feisty little woman whose eyes got very hard if you crossed her, sided with her, and Daddy kept out of it. I went to bed that night yearning for the adventure and crushed because I wasn't going to get to make it.

But Grandfather wasn't dean of the William and Mary law school for nothing. I don't know what arguments he came up with to persuade them, but Momma sat on the edge of my bed in the morning, grave and worried, and tried one last time to talk me out of making the trip. "Well," she said, when my enthusiasm was undimmed, "If you really want to go, be careful!"

To this day, it's the longest journey I've made under my own power, even though I'm not sure we actually made it to Jamestown. I wish I remembered more of the journey. I remember an amazingly blue sky with fluffy white clouds shining through it, and hills that rose forever toward them and fell away exhilaratingly quickly, and I remember being bone weary by the end of the trip back.

But what I really remember is the seagulls.

I didn't even know what a ferry was before we boarded one to cross the river. As a matter of fact, I don't think I'd ever been on the water before. It was a small boat with a flat main deck and a shelter for the man who ran it. Grandfather and I hung out at the railing, and I rapidly got used to motion beneath my feet and the brisk breeze in my face, and the harsh cries of a few seagulls following the ferry.

Then the bread came out, a loaf Grandfather had provided himself with. We tore off small pieces and flung them out onto the water, and the gulls squealed and dived on them voraciously. More gulls were attracted by the ruckus, and soon the air was full of shrieking birds so white they seemed to shine in the sunlight, wheeling gracefully and snatching the tidbits we flung them, the flock a flurry like a shaken-up snow globe.

I wonder if I were sore for days after our return? I wonder if Momma regretted letting me push myself so hard? I hope I didn't bitch and complain for the rest of the visit!

If I have to forget, then I'm glad I remember the beauty and the amazement of it all, and not the cost.

By Ruby Jung, even the background. All rights reserved to the story. If you like the background, you're welcome to copy and use it.