The Sense of Loss

I am like a lighthouse standing there stoically in the sea, a few hundred meters offshore. People flock to the shores to look at me. How majestic I look, standing there quietly, indomitable, and forever vigilant. I gaze upon the sea and cast my light out to warn mariners of the rocks nearby which would spell doom to all those who would ignore my warnings. For a hundred years, I have stood my post. Waiting. Watching. Being watched. Thousands of people have visited my protected shores to gaze upon me. They come to see me. They come back to see if I persuaded the last storm to spare me.

One evening, she came to my shores. She noticed me. Then she looked away. She was there to gaze upon the sea as the sun sparkled and danced upon the golden shimmery water. She stood there alone until there was no light left in the sky; until the only light was my beacon warning those at sea; stay away; don’t come in here. It is dangerous.

Every day, my shores filled with eager faces looking at me. And every evening she would return to gaze upon the sea. She knew I was there but she didn’t care. A casual glance in my direction would give way to a long and gentle gaze upon the sea.

I noticed her. She was beautiful. She had a smile that could launch a thousand ships. She would stay until after sunset. Every day, for years, there she was, just before sunset, until she wasn’t.

Just as suddenly as she had entered my world, she was gone; never having known that I was always there for her. Every night I would watch the shores for the beautiful young woman who would gaze upon the sea. I waited. I watched. I hoped. But she never returned.

People come to see me every day. To them, I am something special. A memory to be held and treasured for a lifetime. But I no longer notice them. I am anxious to see her again. I am only looking for her.

Did she move away? Did she find what she was looking for? To her, I was just that thing in the water that obscured part of the sea. She said once that she liked me. It may have been a lie. Would it be so terrible if she just acknowledged my existence? Would it be so bad if she just came for a visit occasionally?

Now, she has been gone for longer than the years that she had visited daily. I guess she will just have to be my memory to be held and cherished for a lifetime.

Does she remember me? I could find her. But then what?

For I am just a lighthouse.

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