Lighthouse...

For many years, the light from this tall neighbor swept the night sky above our house. A horizontal light saber, just beyond the reach of the tallest oaks. By day, looking like a red hatted, black & white striped soldier, it stood ready, at attention. Head and shoulders above, surveying a canopy of green.

We had been running errands that took us onto Anastasia Island, and into our old neighborhood. I just happened to look up. There it was again, stoic and reassuring. The same sentential that had watched over us so faithfully, 16 years ago. This old friend, unexpected and familiar in its steadfast continuity.

Tonight, once again, that huge old Fresnel lens will focus its beam, cutting through the dark, above the oaks and rooftops, shooting twenty miles out to sea. There it will slice through the thin membrane between the rolling sea and tar black sky, happy to wink at shrimp boats, bobbing like corks, elbows bent outward, dripping with nets.

A welcome sight to the shrimpers, feeling the ancient connection to the light, as it circles back repeatedly, whispering of home.