Lighthouse

Waking up on the rocks, along the edge of the water, the fog settled along the horizon of the lake. It finally sunk in: I was truly on my own. Now that I knew this in my heart, what do I do with this knowledge?

The previous day, I was the lone person who boarded the ferry that was headed to the Islands. This was all the ferry did all day - criss-cross back and forth from the city to the islands and back again. I just needed to get away for a few hours. Away from the city which had grown claustrophobic. The Islands are a good place to be somewhere else without really being somewhere else.

I figured the gloomy and rainy day was the reason for the absence of other passengers. Or the pandemic that had been raging across the world for the past few months. After many weeks of sheltering in place, the streets were opening up again. Still wary of being outside around other people, I felt the Islands would be a safe bet, offering open space and fresh air.

Disembarking, one of the ferry employees told me this would be the last trip for a while. I thought he meant a few hours, not forever. I didn’t notice at first, not until I walked across the large central park and reached the main marina - everyone was evacuating. There was a mass exodus of boats vying for space to get away from the Island and each other. What was their destination? Anywhere but here, I guessed. Again, I thought this was a temporary situation. People were panicking. This had all strangely become routine over the last few months, lulls of loneliness between fits of panic. Things would go back to normal in a few hours.

I kept walking, going deeper into The Islands. Going the wrong way, always the opposite direction than everyone else. Always making it more difficult for myself. I made a loop through the residential neighbourhood. People were still around, but they seemed in an awful hurry. I kept walking. The main lookout point was deserted. I took my time wandering through the hedge maze. I walked to the north-eastern corner of the Island, found a hidden entrance through some foliage, and on the other side the rocks, the water, the fog.

Sitting down on the rocks, I stared out at the horizon. I don’t know if I fell asleep, or just lost track of time. Lost in my own head, my own thoughts. I sat there for a really long time. I don’t know how long. But when I finally stood up, it finally sunk in: I was truly on my own. I felt no more presence on the Island.

Walking back through the foliage, I went to the southern coast, watched the city across the lake. No more boats were around. No planes taking off or landing from the adjacent airport. No movement anywhere. As night came, I walked the paths through the residential neighbourhood. No lights, no people. I waited three days before I built up the courage to enter an abandoned house and scavenge for any leftover food. I found some almonds and granola bars.

A few nights later was when the electricity went out. I ran to the southern coast and watched as the city grid went down a block at a time. Complete darkness. At least you could see the stars again.

I walked the length of the Island and stopped in my tracks when I reached the lighthouse. I must have walked by this several times already, but hadn’t really seen it. This time I noticed that the door at the foot of the tower was propped open. I poked my head inside and looked around. Climbing the ladder, I paused about halfway up and tried not to look down. I looked down. I kept going.

At the top, out on the landing, I could see for miles and miles. It was a clear night and the moon hung over the horizon of the lake. I sat on the edge of the lighthouse for the entire night. In the morning, I examined the giant light inside the lantern pane. There was a switch on the floor next to the bulb. I flipped it on, but of course, nothing happened.

The broken light bulb gave me an idea.

All-day I looked through houses to see if I could find some kind of generator. I finally found one in an old abandoned broken down boathouse. Since there was no electricity, I couldn’t charge the generator, but maybe I’d get lucky? Maybe there would be some juice left?

I made it up the rickety ladder with the generator tied to my back. At the top, I found a small trap door next to the lantern that held the electrical cables. I took a breath, held it, and plugged it in. The light was blinding, beautiful. It shone out like a laser beam across the water. A lighthouse brings hope, it guides people home. I don’t know if I was necessarily wanting to be guided home, but I did want a bit of hope. Something to soothe me as I waited. Waited to understand my life, the point of all this, to better understand why we were given seconds and hours and years to form thoughts and to love and to hate and to eventually grow old and to finally be no longer.

Once I got used to it, I stared into the light until my eyes grew sore and turned towards the darkness of the night. But I didn’t see darkness, I only saw the light.

As the days went on, the light got noticeably dimmer. The generator was giving out, slowly dying. But on the last day, just as it was extinguishing, I saw something in the distance. I saw a person walking along the same paths I had been crisscrossing all this time. At first, I was scared: who was this person? Where they a friend? A foe? What is going to be asked of me? As they got closer, I grew calmer. Not because they were any more or less of a threat, but because I didn’t care. Couldn’t care anymore. Not caring didn't mean I was devoid of emotion. I just wasn’t afraid anymore. We will deal with whatever comes. What will be, will be.