Lighthouse Girl III

I know that I am a disappointment to Papa; jobs at a lighthouse often go from father to son, or even daughter. He has no children of his own so really I should be his heir but I don’t think that is going to happen. Even now that I have agreed to see to the light house tonight I don’t intend to follow in his footsteps. It must be hard on him to know it but he is still so kind that I can’t refuse him when he asks for my help just this once.

I was shaking as I climbed the stairs with those heavy pails. I had to make two trips and I thought I was going to collapse at the end. Even so my work wasn’t over. I had to wined the device that makes the lamp go around. Then I had to trim all of the wicks. I tried to remember everything that Papa had told me to do; I didn’t have the energy to go back down the stairs and ask him to repeat his instructions. With shaking hands I finally lit the wick and you can’t imagine my relief when everything worked. I had been slow to work everything, my hands unused to the work, and it was already dark.

I finished up dating the log, writing about father’s injury and everything as well as about what I had done. I am afraid they looked more like the diary of a young girl then the record keeping of a man responsible for people’s lives. I looked at a few of Papa’s entries to see how he wrote everything and I realized I had forgotten to look out and see if there were any ships sailing. Papa was very careful to report any ships that he saw. I looked out into the night, my face pressed to the glass, feeling the cold through it. In the light of the lantern I could indeed see a ship, changing its course away from me and I don’t think I have ever felt so glorious. Papa is right; it’s a good feeling to save lives. I carefully wrote about this ship, though not my feelings for it and I think I nearly skipped down the steps to report to Papa. I don’t know if I will become a lighthouse keeper myself yet, but at least until Papa’s leg heals I’ll be sure to keep the light alive. The buckets aren’t as heavy as they can be held up to a human life.