Wednesday August 24th, 2016

The exercise:

Write something which involves: the lighthouse.

Had a short shift (8 to 11) at the bakery this morning, as a new person was being trained to take over the full-time position starting in September (when Mary goes back to school). As a first shift back after vacation, it worked out pretty well for me.

This afternoon I picked corn from the garden and collected some McIntosh apples from the cooler for the lone local customer who put in an order this week. Who then proceeded to arrive late to pick her stuff up.

I'm about done with local orders. You know, in case I haven't mentioned that yet.

Mine:

I watch the storms come.

Black clouds roll in from the horizon, an unstoppable avalanche of Atlantic fury. The waves reach higher, frothing at the mouth as they crash towards my shore. Screaming winds urge them onward. The air is electric and heavy with the promise of that which shall arrive all too soon.

I watch the storms rage.

Rain lashes against my walls and windows, seeking an opening into my sanctuary. Winds wish to topple me to the rocks which surround me. Lightning flashes. Again. And again. And again. Thunder rattles my bones.

I watch the storms go.

My waters, now filled with debris, return to soft rolling sighs, their tantrums quickly forgotten. The air is made new once more. Sunshine parts the clouds and brings with it warmth and the tentative calls of the birds who, like me, call this place home.

I am the keeper.

I keep the light on, burning bright in the deepest darkness. I keep ships and sailors safe, warning them away from my deadly, treacherous rocks. I keep this tower strong, forever reaching for the sky. Forever standing against the storms.

I am eternal.

I must be. For there is no one waiting to take my place.