I used to love to feed the seagulls on the beach. I'd listen to them call one another over the din of the waves and smile in delight, their speak so soothing to me.

When I was three, I'd run after them, giving chase as fast as my toddling feet would carry me. I had no true intent of catching them. We were just having fun, the seagulls and I.

My grandmom would warn me against sharing my popcorn and snacks with them. I'd attract too much attention. I'd bother the neighboring, coconut-oil-slicked beach goers bathing in the sun around us.

I truly loved to dance freely among those beautiful birds of the sea.

Now, I'm laying in the grass, looking at them like, "I wonder if they taste like chicken."