Digest>Archives> December 2004

Abandonment

Sketches by Melissa Pelletier

By Sharma Krauskopf

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The lighthouse that desperately needed love and ...

The wind howled as it hit me with sharp icy chunks of sleet. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. Soon the dim winter sunlight would illuminate the ocean and the land below. In years gone by, sunrise would mean the end of work and time for rest. Those days are gone. Now, working was not part of the day. Instead, I sit on the top of the cliff with nothing to do but observe and think about the past.

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The "huge round thing that looked like a big life ...

When I first came to the cliff, it was a busy place. Below were three beautiful houses with lots of two-legged creatures called people living in them. When my night's work was done and dawn came I would watch them scurry around carrying out their

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The lighthouse was happy co-existing with "Three ...

daytime activities. They planted bright flowers and the walled garden was full of green plants. The smallest people got on a big yellow vehicle and went away for the day during the winter. In the summer, the little ones would play in the yard below. I get pleasure from their giggles drifting up from below. Sometimes they flew kites. One beautiful kite came up and gave me a brief kiss. Oh, how I miss those days of kites and laughter.

The men from the houses would come up my winding staircase and wash my windows, polish my eye, and keep all of my parts shiny and clean. They even painted my exterior every year so I never looked shabby. One day, some other men came and started tearing out my insides. They replaced my beautiful copper mechanisms with a large metal box with red and green blinking lights. At first I thought the box was cool and might be a good companion, but it never did anything but sit and blink.

Not too long after the box was placed inside me, the people in the houses packed up everything and left. I was not too concerned, as that had happened before. New people always replaced the ones leaving. I waited and waited but no one moved into the houses. A nice man did come every now and then. He checked me and cleaned all my parts along with fiddling with the box. I looked

forward to his visits. All of a sudden he didn't come either.

After that no one but tourists came. They stared at me and took my picture but did not repair my peeling exterior or clean my dirty interior. One night, some loud humans came and broke all of the windows out of the houses. As the sound of the shattering glass drifted up, I knew no one would come to fix the broken windows and no one did. The roofs of the houses collapsed and I could see the remains of the beds and chairs that the people had used. Slowly I watched what lay at my feet decay. One day, a large group of men came. I hoped they were going to fix the houses but instead I watched in horror as they set fire to the houses. All that was left of what were once happy homes were ashes that the wind quickly blew away. Why couldn't they have fixed the cute little dwellings instead of annihilating them? Would I be the next to be destroyed?

I have been standing here many years since the houses were reduced to ashes. The men did return and take away the box with its blinking red and green lights. Once it was gone, my beautiful golden eye did not shine at night anymore. I do nothing but stand empty without any use except for an occasional picture for a tourist. I have cracks in the glass around my eye and my exterior is peeling and dirty. My inside is full of spiders and cobwebs. My beauty is gone. Not even many tourists come to take my picture anymore. For years I had wished someone beside the tourists with their blasted cameras would come, repair and love me like they did before but it was not to be. I had been abandoned. "That is enough reminiscing, it does not change what has happened," I told myself.

As the sun touched my cracked windows I heard a vehicle coming up the road to the cliff. A whole bunch of people carrying things got out of the car and started toward me. Probably more tourists, or maybe they had finally come to burn me down. I could do without the tourists but an end to my abandonment would be welcome. The people stood a long time looking at me and talking. Then one of them took a big bolt cutter and broke the lock on my door. Forcing the door open they all entered and began to sweep and dust. I thought for sure they were going to burn me down but it seemed a little odd to sweep me first. But, sweep they did until my shabby interior was clean for the first time in years. They ascended the stairs. First they taped the cracks in my windows and washed them on the inside. Then gently using a feather thing that tickled they cleaned my eye. What a difference! The world still had color and the ocean sparkled. Before the people left, they put a sign out front which I could not read but it must have said something good because the people were smiling and patting each other on the back. Every day for the next week they returned. They cleaned and painted my interior until it sparkled. Two of them even painted me on the outside, which was no easy task. I was beautiful again and it was wonderful to have laughter and people around.

One day before they left they brought a huge round thing that looked like a big life saving ring out of their truck. Only instead of being a white circle with red trimming it was covered with green feathery branches. A big red object that curled over and over again was tied to it. Some of the people came upstairs and dropped the ring half way down my exterior while some others tied it safely around my middle with wire. Then they all went outside and stood in front of me looking up at the green circle and began to sing. The lovely sound of their voices and the pride that echoed in the words "It is beginning to look like Christmas" told me I was no longer on my own. These people cared and knew that just because I was a lighthouse made of stone I had essence. All of sudden I felt drops of moisture trickle from my big golden eye onto the newly painted lantern room floor. What caused it I do not know but what I did know was abandonment was over.

Note From Author:

The story narrated by this lighthouse is true and similar things are happening all over the world. It is a sad story and maybe none of you would choose to think about it during this season of joy and merriment. I hope it does make you stop and think of these abandoned buildings. Lighthouses have spirit and essence. They are not alive but they have a life force. You might not be able to tie a wreath around an abandoned tower but you could share your concern by getting active in a restoration group or at the least sharing a little of your riches with restoration efforts. What a wonderful Christmas it would be if some more of these abandoned buildings were no longer alone.

This story appeared in the December 2004 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. The print edition contains more stories than our internet edition, and each story generally contains more photographs - often many more - in the print edition. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.

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