I’ve decided to start adding something most weekends — a story of some kind. These posts will be longer than my usual ones, and I’m going to experiment with audio as well, though this particular story will be a bit of a challenge to record. This piece began as a response to a friend’s prompt: “write a story about a lighthouse.” This is what emerged, and I think it fits naturally with how my own path has been unfolding. While my story isn’t Hank’s, in our own ways, we’re both learning to open up and believe. The audio runs about twenty‑five minutes, so if you’d like to listen, find a quiet moment to settle in and be present. If you’d rather read, please continue below. Hank and the Lighthouse The absolute last thing Hank wanted to do was walk up those stairs again. There were 172 of them. He had counted them so many times that he knew what number he was on without counting anymore. It was a strange thing to know what stair he was on without counting but it was what it was. And 172 is a lot of stairs, particularly when you reach a certain age. But Hank had a job and he was going to do it and doing the job required walking up 172 stairs once a day if he was lucky and more than that if he was not, at least these days. Not that there was nothing good about Hank’s job. The view, most days could be something once you finished climbing the stairs. Could be being the operative words. It also could be no view at all, literally none. You see, Hank’s job was to tend a lighthouse. And to be honest, tending a lighthouse didn’t require a huge amount of work most of the time. Most of the time, you threw a few switches and sat back and watched the lighthouse do its thing. And just waited for the time to pass. And while some days were pretty uninteresting, the days when the clouds were so low that he was pretty much in the middle of them by the time he reached the top step, some days, like today, were truly something. The sky was blue, the winds were light and there was a little bit of warmth in the air. Now your might think that those days were the days that Hank loved the most and when he had started the job, some 20 years ago, they were. He could get lost in the joy of simply looking out on the water and seeing all the activity, the boats, the airplanes that flew by, and he would sit in the sun and simply soak it all in. But the truth is that over time, Hank had soured on those days. He now preferred the days when it was cloudy or foggy or rainy. Sure, he didn’t get to go outside but there were two big benefits to those days. The first was he knew he was doing something useful even if it wasn’t really that hard. On those days, he played a role in seeing people safely to their destination and it was a worthy thing to do, again even if it wasn’t that hard. But, more importantly, he was alone in his own world. He didn’t have to watch people leave the area, leave him. Of course he knew that most of the people didn’t even know he existed. Some of them knew the lighthouse but none of them knew Hank. And so Hank was happiest when he did the most and confronted his loneliness the least. And today was another one of the days he really hated. Bright and sunny with lots of boats on the water, lots of people going from place to place while Hank sat around and wished he didn’t have to watch. But, what was he supposed to do, sit inside while the sun was shining. I mean he could but that didn’t really make any sense either. So Hank sat outside and watched the world go by and wondered why he was simply sitting around and what he was waiting for Because in addition to being solitary on his job, Hank led a solitary life. he told himself he didn’t mind but of course he did. Manning a lighthouse meant he worked odd hours and sometimes was gone all night. And it’s not like the pay was great or there were a lot of people in town looking for relationships. So Hank sat around and wondered how he had gotten to this place. But, the truth of the matter was, and he knew this, that for a while at least, Hank had wanted a solitary life. But he wasn’t sure he did anymore and yet he was so far down this path, where was he to go? On this day, like many, Hank left the lighthouse at the end of his shift, a little bit after dark. He had made sure that everything was working normally, set the alarms that would let him know if anything was amiss, and wandered into the small town he called home. They didn’t get a ton of tourists here, they mostly went further up the bay but the few they did get would have called the village quaint, or perhaps ramshackle if they weren’t feeling charitable. But to Hank it was home. Similar to the steps in his lighthouse, he knew everything by instinct and could go from place to place by simply following his feet. And so, like many days, Hank hit the bar to grab himself a drink and maybe a bit of food if the mood struck him. As it often was, the bar was not packed, there were a few locals and a few tourists around. You could tell the tourists mostly by their shoes, too clean, too new, and often times, inappropriate for an old town with old roads and a fair bit of mud. But the mood was lively as he walked in and headed to the bar. he greeted Joe, who tended bar most nights. Rusty owned the place but he only tended bar on the rare occasions when Joe had the night off…one night a week and 2 weeks a year vacation. “The usual Hank?,” asked Joe as he sat down. “Sure,” replied Hank and sighed as a beer was pulled and placed down in front of him. Hank then took a sip, closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think about what he was going to do with the rest of the day. He didn’t have any plans, didn’t have a ton of hobbies, beyond doing the daily crossword, and so he mostly just sat and watched whatever happened to be on the one beat up television in the place. Some game show or something. Hank wasn’t interested but it was something to do. But after an hour or so, he decided he wasn’t hungry, wandered back to his place, read a book for a few minutes and went to sleep. Another day in the books. Hank woke up with the sun as he normally did this time of year. Summer was coming to an end but it still got light pretty early and Hank truly did enjoy the sunrise. Sometimes he’d head to the lighthouse to see it but, come to think of it, he hadn’t really done that in a while. He wasn’t really sure why. He just hadn’t. He had a quick breakfast, grabbed the paper for the crossword and wandered off to climb the 172 steps again. But, as he approached the lighthouse, something was odd. There was a car in the parking lot. Hank didn’t own a car, no need really. He didn’t really have anywhere to go. And yet, there was a car there. Hank thought about it as he walked up the hill. They’d had an inspection a few months ago so it couldn’t be that. Other than the inspector, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a car in the lot. Well, it was nothing to him really. So he walked by the car and headed for the door to take the 172 steps again. As he was unlocking the door, he heard the car door open. And turning, he saw a woman coming toward him. At least he thought it was a woman. Either that or a really short man. As she came closer, he registered long hair peaking out around a ball cap and so he knew it was a woman. “Good morning,” she called across the lot. “Mornin’,” answered Hank cautiously. “Can I ask you a question?”, she continued. “I suppose,” replied Hank. “Ain’t no harm in questions.” “Well you see. I’m practicing painting and I want to do a seascape but I want to get a perspective that is unique. So I was driving down the coast and I saw the lighthouse. Any chance I could come up to the top and do my painting from there?” That was about the last thing Hank was expecting to hear. “It’s more than a few steps,” he replied. “And it ain’t no kind of pretty up there at all, there being only me who ever goes up there.” “I don’t mind that. And it would only take a couple of days probably for me to paint what I want.” Days? thought Hank. A couple of days. While he wasn’t sure he like being alone, he also wasn’t sure he wanted somebody in his way for a couple of days. And what if it was more than a couple? At the same time, she looked like a nice enough sort and it wasn’t like she was going to get in his way. “All right,” he said. “I suppose that would be fine.” “Thank you so much. I will be back tomorrow with my paints. Is there anyway we could start a bit earlier. You see the light right after dawn is what I’m really trying to get…” Hank thought and it’s already started. I mean now I have to walk over in the dark. He thought about pushing back a bit. “Well you see ma’am I walk over from my place and I’d rather not walk in the dark…” “Oh I’d be happy to pick you up. Say 6:15?” Hank did not want anyone to pick him up. “That’s not necessary ma’am. I’ll see you here at 6:30 tomorrow morning.” “Thank you so much. I will see you then…I’m so sorry. I don’t even know your name.” “The name’s Hank,” he replied. “See you then Hank. Mine’s Cheryl.” “Enjoy your day ma’am.” And with that, Hank opened the door and closed it and took the 172 stairs to the top. It was another beautiful day and so Hank had a lot of time to stare out and think. Mostly, he wondered about Cheryl. Why, of all the places someone could go to do a painting, why would she ever come here? Heck, he could show her a bunch of places that were prettier to look at than the view from the top of the lighthouse. Maybe he should have told her that. But, although he wasn’t sure he wanted company, he wasn’t going to be rude. She’d probably figure out soon enough that she was in the wrong place and she’d move on and do her painting somewhere better. But either way, he’d said he’d
