Thank you my friends, for the overwhelming support for my blog, on Facebook. Looks like I will blog for another year. I do have some changes in mind going forward. We will see how it pans out.
This week, I’m not writing the blog. Due to my schedule, my youngest son is my guest blogger, and the words that follow are his. We may see more of his writing in the future. At only seventeen, I’m really proud of his abilities, with this being his first attempt at descriptive writing.
The lighthouse in Port Washington is what I aspire to be, a symbol for those who stand out in this indistinct world. Shining a light to those lost at sea, battered by the ever-looming waves and disastrous storms, but still standing the test of time, holding true to its beliefs and its purpose.
The lighthouse is a place I tend to go often, a place drenched in emotion for me, sadness, contentment, serenity, and chaos. It’s a place I go to relive and relieve my memories in this life. The lighthouse towers above the horizon of the deep blue lake, many boats do indeed dot that horizon and fishermen wave to strangers ashore as they dock and set sail.
The smell of fresh-caught fish permeates the air near the mainland and slowly fades to brisk smell of wet concrete as I walk further along. The walk down to the lighthouse itself is very serene and calm, the occasional stranger passes by exchanging a quick greeting and disappears as the sound of their feet slowly muffle into nothingness behind me.
The rocks lining the side of the walkway block the crashing waves from splashing onto me, and although deafening, it was very calming due to its monotonous nature. These waves come and go like the thoughts in my mind, a thought pattern holding steady and then crashing becoming scattered.
I get to the lighthouse finally after a grueling walk and admire its structure, chipped, rusted, worn, weathered, but still standing. Sitting down on the damp concrete makes my shorts feel damp and I feel the temperature difference hanging my legs off the edge near the lapping now calm waves.
Sitting down like this reminds me of Fish Day two years ago, when I was still dating my ex-girlfriend. We would hang our legs off the edge and just be immersed in the love that was thick in the air, snapping memories on our phones.
Later that night, coming back to watch the fireworks display against the shimmering water in different colors, red, white, blue, green, pink, purple, just blurred and toned down by the reflection of the waves. Meanwhile, playing above our heads a truly intense spectacle for our eyes, the lights would flash before us and after a short delay sound would boom past us shaking our vision and deafening our ears.
It’s not the only memories I have of that place though. Throughout my childhood I would always walk down there with my pops and we’d talk about things kids usually talk about, you know the deep things in life. I remember walking down there before the walkway got wider with my dad steadily guiding me, so I wouldn’t slip into the waves. The waves would splash and drench our clothes, but at that time it didn’t matter, it was just water after all, we would laugh about it and continue on our journey.
Going there in winter is one of the best times to go, the walkway is slick, but lined with the most beautiful crystals of ice that display themselves perfectly in the moonlight. Air dry and crisp, refreshing, and when you reach the end you’re left with a beautiful sight of the town of Port Washington. Looking back as the sound of cars honk and life continues to move on while at the lighthouse it’s as if time stands still, it’s like a break from everyday life due to the sheer beauty of everything going on.
I remember about a month ago, I went after a bunch of storms, the start of the walkway was covered in mud and the sky looked gray but inviting, the waves were powerful yet smooth and quiet, and as I got further along the way, looking back at the shore I could see an amazing milky white cloud of fog covering the beach, just below the steep bluffs.
I look at the sun gleaming on the shiny, half moss-covered rocks and it makes me happy, that same sun warming my frigid skin. There is no other place in my life, that brings more order to me, than the lighthouse.