BC GROUP - Elsie Halsell

O U R S T O R I E S

By JoAnn Semones

I always go to the sea for solace. There's a rugged rubblestone lighthouse I visit that stands high off a tall, rocky scrap of land along the Pacific coast. It's a grand old sentinel, at once imposing and inviting, spiraling cathedral-like over the rolling blue-green waters it surveys. In a way, it's where I go to pray.

Today, I am praying for my best friend. She has cancer. As I scuff along the narrow, empty beach, I am lost in thoughts of her struggle to survive and my feelings of helplessness and terror. How will we weather the storm? My tears fall as softly as the gentle fog settling in over the vast sweep of ocean stretching before me. A melancholy breeze carries an almost imperceptible scent of salt on the air and the faint low moan of a nearby fog horn.

Suddenly, the sea turns unruly, flinging gusts of thick, bone-chilling mist in my path. I scurry into the tower seeking shelter, somehow knowing that I'm entering a sacred cove. A puff of wind blows through the landing, urging me up the curling wrought iron staircase. In the eerie silence, there is only the hollow echo of each solitary step. As I pass a small open portal, phantom voices come crashing through like cresting waves wailing, “Breakers ahead!” The blow come quick and heavy. Gale force winds whip the whole sea white. Huge waves beat mercilessly into the brick and mortar structure and the tower shivers for an instant. My hands freeze to the trembling railing and my heart pounds uncontrollably. “Hold fast,” someone howls, “Hold fast!”

In the inky darkness, I continue my voyage. The journey seems endless. Am I just a lonely seafarer pitching and turning on an anchor-less ship, adrift under a starless sky? “Steady, keep your course steady," a voice beckons, "Go as far as your heart will take you.” Gradually, the furor begins to subside. The fierce roaring surf ebbs to a murmuring ripple, and once more, the timeless tower stands firm against unrelenting winds and unforgiving seas.

Just ahead of me is a dim flickering ray, like a fluttering candle, slowly driving the shadows away. The further I ascend, the more radiant the glow. Once in the lantern room, a flood of swirling white light envelops me in the whisperings of a flinty, otherworldly voice: “I am the keeper of the light. Under constant siege by the tossing, tormented sea, time and salt air have taken their toll. I've been pummeled, bruised, and scarred from the ravages of violent storms and tumultuous squalls. My ruddy, weathered face is cracked and lined with age, but my eyes, which hold in them the great beacon, still sparkle and gleam.”

The mighty beam blazes clear and strong, hypnotizing me with the prisms' dancing colors. Shining there is the face of my best friend, smiling. Magically, the lamplight is transformed into a vivid reflection of her love for me. A final hushed voice murmurs, “We can endure life's stormy seas if we keep the light inside us burning bright. Keep the light, keep the light, evermore.”

E-mail: JoAnn Semones