Lady of the Lighthouse

The waters of the Potomac River were choppy as I was all alone driving my craft through the thick fog.  I could not see more than a foot in front of me.  I could not even see the bow.  There was nothing but fog surrounding.  I could not see anything but white.  I slowly drove my craft having no idea of what I could possibly hit in the water.  Then, I saw something.  It was a light.  It looked like a light from a lighthouse.  I looked at my radar.  It appeared that I was near Piney Point.  I remember a lighthouse being there.  I turned towards the light.

“Ahoy there,” I heard a lady’s voice shout out.

“Ahoy,” I replied.

I saw a light swirling around ahead of me.

“Do you see my light,” I heard her say.  “I am standing at the end of a dock.”

“I see you.”

I slowly maneuvered my craft towards the swirling light.  I felt something hit the bow.

“I got ya,” she said as I felt her step onto the boat.

The fog slowly began to clear from the bow, and a beautiful lady with long dirty blonde hair, a blue weatherproof jacket and dark blue jeans with her pants legs rolled up to expose her ankles and bare feet was tying the rope.

“You’re secure now.”  She smiled.  “You won’t be going anywhere for a while.  Then again, you would not want to in this fog.”

I came from behind the wheel and approached her and introduced myself.

“I am the Lady of the Lighthouse.” She smiled from ear to ear.  “Come inside.  It’s nice and cozy.”

We walked along the long dock onto dry land that was actually soaked from the mist of the fog, and we went up the stairs onto the front porch.  We entered the house into the living room.  The floors were polished wood with a wool rug in the center.

“Have a seat,” she said pointing to the long wooden chair that you would find on an old sailing ship.

I took a seat.

“Anything to drink?”  She perked up.

“A nice glass of ice tea,” I replied.

She tiptoed out of the room.  I looked around.  A picture frame in the shape of a captain’s wheel was on the back wall with photos of various people.

“Here you are.”  She handed me a glass.

I took it, and she tiptoed to a rocking chair.

“A nice place you have here,” I said.  “It must be nice to live here.”

“It is,” she smiled.  “I have lived here all my life.  I am all alone since my parents passed.  You are the first visitor I have had in months.”

“You must not get many visitors.”

“Not really,” she sulked.  “Only the mailman and the man who brings food to the house are the only ones I see.  Since I am the only keeper of this light, and since they are in dire need of this light, I stay here to light up everyone’s way.”

“I am glad to be a visitor to your house,” I said.  “I am glad to have made my way here.”

A tear rolled down her face.  She jumped over a kissed me tight.

“I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”  She hugged me tight.

The fog got thicker.  We could not see the front porch.

“It is very foggy tonight.”  She had a big smile on her face.  “It is getting dark.  It looks like you are going to have to spend the night.”

For me, it was the beginning of what was going to be a beautiful friendship.

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