Thursday, March 10, 2011

The Lighthouse



Quinn stood at the corner of the fence and looked out over the sea, thinking about how the lighthouse clung on the edge of two worlds in more ways than one.  In front of her she could see the sea pounding at the base of the massive rocks the gods arranged to hold back the land from merging with the sea.  Both the water and the sky were the same murky, misty blue, so dark it looked almost purple.  If she concentrated, Quinn could see where sea met sky, but only if she really concentrated.  As she savored the salt the light mist laid on her face, she turned to face the lighthouse.  The thick, dark forest behind it came right up to the lighthouse as if it were trying to push the structure over the the ledge of land to which it clung to the rocks below.  Quinn watched the forest get darker as the light faded, turning the grey-blueness of the sea and sky to the mysterious deep black only found on the ocean.

As Quinn turned back to gaze out over the sea, she made her decision.  The way ahead of her loomed as unknown and unnavigable as the cove would be without the light from her grandfather's lighthouse.  The path of her life until now crowded in on her as dark and treacherous as the forest.  She watched the light from the tower flash rhythmically on the ocean and thanked God again for her grandfather.  His example flashed on her own life like the light guiding ships, slow and periodic, leaving the navigation to her but providing a beacon, a direction, a warning.  No longer did she worry about losing her grip on the slim ledge of sanity she clung to like the lighthouse clung to the edge of land.  She could feel herself edging closer to stepping off into the unknown darkness of the sea of her own life and wondered if she could avoid the rocks as she made the transition.

Copyright © 2010 Denise Duggan

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