“I want to work in a lighthouse,” declared little Robbie Fernandez, all of five year old. Everyone laughed.
“So young, what does he know?” everyone thought, “leaving aside engineering, medicine, civil service, work in a lighthouse! a desolate place, all alone most of the time!”
“You know Robbie, if you decide to work in a lighthouse, then no girl may marry you,” grandma teased Robbie, amid a chorus of laughter, “which girl will like to come here and spend her time away from civilisation alone?”
Robbie would visit his grandfather every summer. He loved the picture perfect living quarter, the small patch of garden and the vast expanse of ocean. Grandad would use light beam and foghorn to guide fishing boats and small vessels away from dangerous coastline and bring them ashore.
“Grandad, can I become a lighthouse manager?”
“Certainly you can, but now it is your time to study,” said Grandad with a note of caution, “You know Robbie life will not be easy. You may have to spend a lot of time alone.”
Grandad was right. With time clarity emerged. Robbie still helped people in distress, not as a lighthouse manager, but as a priest.
Word Count : 197
Photo Credit : Susan Spaulding