Constant in its ebbs and flows, yet as changeable and outrageous as the woman he first fell in love with. Roy sat rubbing the edges of his bristly white beard, considering instead the Sea- a lover, mistress and friend all at the same time.
He thought of the things he couldn’t change about himself, and the constant demands of offering himself as a breadwinner, provider and teacher in the midst of a family needing a lover, a confidante and friend. Roy sat back in his chair, considering the life he had beyond the sea- His disillusioned wife, and children who he loved dearly but could not communicate to. He’d been through many storms and high alerts, and seen the waves crash angrily, slamming the stalwart, but vibrating building, yet mostly the ships would roll into the harbour humming quietly in the background in their own peaceful reverie just like Roy himself, who oftentimes sat quietly in his chair with his thoughts. He’d talked to the sailors and knew most of the regulars by their first name.
The near misses, the new ships, the old and new as they passed by. On this day he had studiously recorded each of them. Beyond the lighthouse were a few small boats, heading home after various fishing trips, finding their destinations in a hypnotic, clockwork motion. It was a Saturday, and the evening shadows were gathering outside. Roy sat whittling a wooden bear, quietly hunched over, scratching little nicks into the firm wood from time to time looking out into the calm ocean. The Last of the Lighthouse Keepers, A short story
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