Where I grew up on the banks of the lower Potomac River seagulls were so common you almost never saw them. You didn’t see them in the way that you don’t see your mom until she isn’t there anymore. I miss both now. I can’t remember when (much less why) I wanted this little iron wall attachment but I was probably no older than 10 or 11. I attached it to the wall of my bedroom; it is hollow behind its head and I used to hide coins there. Just because. There was never a fortune. I love the call of seagulls, though they are essentially scavengers with no scruples. All for none and one for one. Though they do seem to stick together. To me, nothing says the sea’s edge like a seagull. The soundtrack of my boyhood is backed by their calls. It now hangs in my son’s bedroom and although I’ve told him this story, he will make his own story with it; or maybe none at all.