Speaker 1: At the Lighthouse. That's what Margaret called it. Even now,
Speaker 1: fifty years later, she still thought about it, that one
Speaker 1: perfect summer when she was twelve years old and everything changed.
Speaker 1: It was June. School had just let out, and Margaret's
Speaker 1: parents had asked her a question, would you like to
Speaker 1: spend the summer with your grandfather at the lighthouse. Margaret
Speaker 1: had said yes before they'd even finished asking. She'd visited
Speaker 1: the lighthouse before, of course, quick trips an afternoon here,
Speaker 1: a weekend there, but a whole summer, three entire months
Speaker 1: living there, helping, learning. It felt like a dream. Her
Speaker 1: mother packed her suitcase, two pairs of overall, some t shirts,
Speaker 1: a sweater for cool evenings, her favorite book, and a
Speaker 1: notebook blank pages waiting to be filled. Her father drove
Speaker 1: her there on a Saturday morning. The road wound along
Speaker 1: the coast, windows down, salt air rushing in. Margaret pressed
Speaker 1: her face to the glass, watching the ocean, watching for
Speaker 1: the lighthouse, and then there it was, white stone, red roof,
Speaker 1: standing tall against the blue sky. Margaret's heart jumped. Her
Speaker 1: grandfather was waiting in the parking lot. Thomas, tall and lean,
Speaker 1: his hair was white, his face sweathered from years a
Speaker 1: sun and wind, but his eyes, his eyes were kind,
Speaker 1: and when he smiled at Margaret, his whole face lit up.
Speaker 1: There's my girl, he said, and he wrapped her in
Speaker 1: a hug that smelled like coffee and the sea. Her
Speaker 1: father helped carry her suitcase inside, talked with Thomas for
Speaker 1: a few minutes, then hugged Margaret. Goodbye. Be good. He said,
Speaker 1: listen to your grandfather. I will. Margaret promised, and then
Speaker 1: her father drove away, and it was just Margaret and
Speaker 1: Thomas and the lighthouse. Well, then Thomas said, let me
Speaker 1: show you around. They started at the bottom. Thomas pushed
Speaker 1: open the heavy door and they stepped inside. The smell.
Speaker 1: That's what Margaret remembered, most stone and oil and something else,
Speaker 1: something she couldn't quite name. Time, maybe history, this, Thomas said,
Speaker 1: is where it all begins. He showed her the supply room,
Speaker 1: the tools, the oil for the lamp, the logbook where
Speaker 1: he recorded everything, weather, ships, any unusual events. A lighthouse
Speaker 1: keeper keeps a record, Thomas explained, because someone someday might
Speaker 1: need to know what happened here. Margaret nodded, taking it
Speaker 1: all in. Then they climbed the stairs one hundred and
Speaker 1: sixty three steps. Thomas counted them out loud as they went.
Speaker 1: Margaret tried to remember seventeen forty three ninety one. She'd
Speaker 1: count them herself later, make sure she got it right.
Speaker 1: At the top, Thomas pushed open the door to the
Speaker 1: lantern room, and Margaret gasped. Windows all around three hundred
Speaker 1: and sixty degrees of ocean and sky. The light was
Speaker 1: so bright up here, so pure. She could see for
Speaker 1: miles the coastline, the town, fishing boats like tiny toys
Speaker 1: in the distance. Beautiful, isn't it, Thomas said. Margaret couldn't speak,
Speaker 1: She just nodded. In the center of the room stood
Speaker 1: the lamp, large, intricate, the lens catching the light, refracting it,
Speaker 1: making it dance. This, Thomas said, placing his hand on
Speaker 1: the lamp is what we're here to protect. This light.
Speaker 1: It saves lives, Maggie, every single night. Ships out there
Speaker 1: in the dark, they're looking for this, looking for home,
Speaker 1: and we make sure they can find it. Margaret walked closer,
Speaker 1: reached out her hand. Thomas smiled, go ahead, you can
Speaker 1: touch it. She did. The metal was cool, smooth, She
Speaker 1: could see her reflection in it. Distorted, stretched but there,
Speaker 1: come here, Thomas said. He walked to the western window.
Speaker 1: Margaret followed. They stood side by side, looking out at
Speaker 1: the ocean. Every morning, Thomas said, I stand here and
Speaker 1: I watch the sunrise, and every evening I watch it set.
Speaker 1: I've been doing this for forty one years, Maggie, and
Speaker 1: I never get tired of it. Margaret looked up at him. Why,
Speaker 1: Thomas thought for a moment, because the ocean is never
Speaker 1: the same twice, the sky is never the same twice.
Speaker 1: Every day brings something new, something to notice, something to
Speaker 1: be grateful for. Margaret looked back out at the water,
Speaker 1: the waves rolling in over and over, endless this summer.
Speaker 1: Thomas said, I'm going to teach you everything I know,
Speaker 1: and then someday maybe this will be yours. Margaret's breath
Speaker 1: caught hers the lighthouse. Really, she whispered, Really, Thomas said,
Speaker 1: if you want it, if you love it the way
Speaker 1: I do, then yes, it could be yours. And in
Speaker 1: that moment, standing in the lantern room, surrounded by light
Speaker 1: and ocean and sky, Margaret knew this was what she wanted,
Speaker 1: This was where she belonged. The days that followed fell
Speaker 1: into a rhythm, a gentle predictable pattern that Margaret came
Speaker 1: to love. Every morning Thomas woke her at dawn, they'd
Speaker 1: climb the stairs together, check the lamp, make sure everything
Speaker 1: was working properly. Even though it was automated now, even
Speaker 1: though it ran itself, Thomas still checked every single day.
Speaker 1: Never trust a machine completely, he'd say, always verify. After
Speaker 1: the morning check, they'd have breakfast, simple food, oatmeal, toast,
Speaker 1: eggs from the chickens that Thomas kept in a small
Speaker 1: coop behind the lighthouse. Then came the work. Thomas taught
Speaker 1: Margaret how to polish the brass, fixtures, the railings, the
Speaker 1: lamp housing. Everything had to shine. People don't see this,
Speaker 1: he explained, but we know, and we take pride in
Speaker 1: our work, even the parts no one sees. Margaret polished
Speaker 1: until her arms ached, but she didn't mind. She liked
Speaker 1: watching the brass go from dull to gleaming, liked seeing
Speaker 1: her reflection appear in the surface. Thomas taught her how
Speaker 1: to clean the windows, all of them, inside and out.
Speaker 1: Clear glass means clear light, he said. We can't have smudges,
Speaker 1: can't have salt build up. The light needs to shine
Speaker 1: as bright as possible. Margaret learned to use the long
Speaker 1: handled squeegee to reach the high windows to wipe away
Speaker 1: every streak. Thomas taught her how to read the weather,
Speaker 1: how to watch the c clouds, the color of the sky,
Speaker 1: the smell of the air storm coming. He'd say, pointing
Speaker 1: at distant clouds, See how dark they are at the bottom.
Speaker 1: See how fast they're moving. We'll have rain by evening,
Speaker 1: and he was always right. Thomas taught her about the ships,
Speaker 1: how to identify them by their shape, their flags, their purpose.
Speaker 1: That's a fishing boat, he'd say, see the nuts, and
Speaker 1: that one there, that's a cargo ship, heading south, probably
Speaker 1: to the big port. Margaret would watch and learn and
Speaker 1: ask questions, and Thomas always had answers. In the afternoons,
Speaker 1: if the weather was good, they'd take walks along the beach,
Speaker 1: looking for shells, for sea glass, for anything the ocean
Speaker 1: had left behind. One day they found a baby seal.
Speaker 1: It was lying on the rocks, too far from the water,
Speaker 1: crying out a thin, pitiful sound. Margaret ran to it, Grandpa,
Speaker 1: it's hurt. Thomas knelt down examined the seal carefully. No,
Speaker 1: not hurt, just lost, separated from its mother. Probably what
Speaker 1: do we do, Margaret asked. Thomas looked at the ocean,
Speaker 1: then back at the seal. We help it get home. Together,
Speaker 1: they care fully carried the seal closer to the water.
Speaker 1: It was heavier than Margaret expected, and it wiggled, but
Speaker 1: they managed at the water's edge. Thomas set it down gently.
Speaker 1: The seal paused, looked at them with dark, round eyes.
Speaker 1: Go on, Thomas said softly, you're safe now, and the
Speaker 1: seal slipped into the water, disappeared beneath the waves and
Speaker 1: was gone. Margaret felt tears in her eyes. She didn't
Speaker 1: know why. Thomas put his hand on her shoulder. That's
Speaker 1: what we do, Maggie. We help things find their way home.
Speaker 1: In the evenings, after dinner, they'd sit in the lantern room.
Speaker 1: Thomas would tell stories about the time a whale beached
Speaker 1: itself on the rocks and half the town came to
Speaker 1: see it. About the storm that knocked out the power
Speaker 1: for three days and he had to light the lamp
Speaker 1: manually every few hours around the clock. About the ship
Speaker 1: that ran aground despite the lighthouse, and how he'd helped
Speaker 1: rescue the sailors. Were you scared, Margaret asked, always, Thomas said,
Speaker 1: fear means you understand the danger, but you do it
Speaker 1: anyway because it's the right thing to do. Margaret thought
Speaker 1: about that fear and doing it anyway. One night, Thomas
Speaker 1: let her light the lamp. The sun had just set,
Speaker 1: The sky was deep purple. Stars were beginning to appear. Here,
Speaker 1: Thomas said, handing her a long match. You do it.
Speaker 1: Margaret's hands shook a little. This was important, This was
Speaker 1: the light, the thing that mattered most. She struck the match.
Speaker 1: The flame flared to life. She touched it to the wick,
Speaker 1: and the lamp came alive, slowly, at first just a
Speaker 1: small flame, but then it grew filled. The lamp bright
Speaker 1: and warm and steady. Thomas activated the mechanism and the
Speaker 1: lens began to turn, slowly, sweeping the light out across
Speaker 1: the ocean. Margaret watched, mesmerized. You did that, Thomas said,
Speaker 1: You lit the light, and tonight, because of you, ships
Speaker 1: will find their way home safely. Margaret felt something swell
Speaker 1: in her chest, pride, purpose, belonging. This was what she
Speaker 1: was meant to do. The summer passed quickly, too quickly.
Speaker 1: June became July, July became August. Margaret learned everything Thomas
Speaker 1: could teach her, how to maintain the equipment, how to
Speaker 1: fill out the log book, how to predict the tides,
Speaker 1: how to spot a ship in distress. She learned the
Speaker 1: rhythm of the lighthouse, the sounds it made, the way
Speaker 1: the wind moved through the tower, the creak of the stairs,
Speaker 1: the hum of the machinery. She learned to love it,
Speaker 1: all of it. On the last day of summer, Thomas
Speaker 1: called Margaret up to the lantern room. It was evening,
Speaker 1: the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of
Speaker 1: orange and pink. Thomas reached into his pocket pulled out
Speaker 1: something small, brass with an number stamped on it, a key. This,
Speaker 1: he said, was my father's key, my grandfather's before that,
Speaker 1: and now I want you to have it. Margaret stared, Grandpa,
Speaker 1: I can't. I'm just a You're a keeper, Thomas said firmly.
Speaker 1: You're a keeper in your heart. I've watched you this summer, Maggie.
Speaker 1: You don't just do the work. You love the work.
Speaker 1: You understand why it matters. And someday, someday you're going
Speaker 1: to stand in this room and you're going to light
Speaker 1: this lamp and it will be yours. To keep. He
Speaker 1: placed the key in her hand, closed her fingers around it.
Speaker 1: Promise me, he said, Promise me, you'll take care of
Speaker 1: it when I'm gone, when it's your turn. Margaret felt
Speaker 1: tears running down her face. I promise. Thomas pulled her
Speaker 1: into a hug, and they stood there in the lantern
Speaker 1: room as the sun set, as the stars appeared, as
Speaker 1: the light began to turn. The next morning, Margaret's father
Speaker 1: came to pick her up. She packed her suitcase, said
Speaker 1: goodbye to the chickens, to the beach, to the lighthouse itself.
Speaker 1: Thomas walked her to the car. Thank you, Margaret said,
Speaker 1: for everything, for teaching me, For the key, no, Thomas said,
Speaker 1: thank you for caring, for wanting to learn. You've given
Speaker 1: me hope, Maggie, hope that the lighthouse will be in
Speaker 1: good hands when my time is done. He kissed her forehead.
Speaker 1: I'll see you soon. Margaret got in the car, and
Speaker 1: as her father drove away, she turned watched the lighthouse
Speaker 1: grow smaller, smaller, until it disappeared from view, but she
Speaker 1: could still feel it, the weight of the key in
Speaker 1: her pocket, the lessons in her heart, the promise she'd
Speaker 1: made someday someday she'd come back and she'd keep the
Speaker 1: light burning, just like Thomas taught her, just like she'd promise.
Speaker 1: The summer at the lighthouse, the summer that changed everything,
Speaker 1: the summer Margaret became a keeper, And fifty years later,
Speaker 1: standing in her kitchen, looking out at the ocean at
Speaker 1: the lighthouse in the distance, Margaret reached into her pocket.
Speaker 1: The key was still there, the same key Thomas had
Speaker 1: given her. She'd kept it all these years, and she'd
Speaker 1: kept her promise. She'd taken care of the light, just
Speaker 1: like she said she would. Margaret smiled, Thank you, Grandpa,
Speaker 1: she whispered, and somewhere, she liked to think, Thomas was smiling.
Speaker 1: To the ocean rolled on. The waves kept coming, The
Speaker 1: lighthouse stood tall, and the light, the light kept burning.
Speaker 1: Because that's what lights do. They shine, They guide, they save,
Speaker 1: and they pass from one keeper to the next, from
Speaker 1: grandfather to granddaughter, from one generation to the next. The
Speaker 1: light goes on. Always sleep Now, rest easy, you are safe,
Speaker 1: You are home. The light is watching over you. Everything
Speaker 1: is well. Good night, and now it's time to rest.
Speaker 1: You're already so relaxed, so calm, so peaceful. Let yourself
Speaker 1: sink even deeper now in to rest. There's nothing more
Speaker 1: you need to do, nothing more to think about. The
Speaker 1: story has carried you to this place of deep peace,
Speaker 1: and now you can simply let go completely. Your body
Speaker 1: is so heavy, so comfortable, sinking into the softness beneath you.
Speaker 1: Your mind is so quiet, so still, thoughts drifting away
Speaker 1: like mist in the morning sun. Feel yourself floating between
Speaker 1: waking and sleeping, that peaceful space where everything is soft
Speaker 1: and gentle and calm. You're safe here, perfectly safe. Your
Speaker 1: breathing is so slow now, so natural. Each breath takes
Speaker 1: you deeper, deeper still into sleep. You don't need to
Speaker 1: control it, just let it flow in and out. Let
Speaker 1: yourself melt into this moment. There is only this piece,
Speaker 1: this calm, this rest. Everything else has fallen away. You
Speaker 1: are held by sleep itself, cradled in perfect comfort. If
Speaker 1: any thoughts appear, let them pass like clouds drifting across
Speaker 1: a peaceful sky. You don't need to hold onto them,
Speaker 1: Just watch them float by and return to this stillness,
Speaker 1: this quiet, this peace. Your body knows how to sleep,
Speaker 1: your mind knows how to rest. Trust in this process,
Speaker 1: surrender to sleep. It's coming naturally gently drawing you deeper
Speaker 1: with every breath. Feel the weight of your body so
Speaker 1: heavy now, your head sinking into your pillow, your shoulders
Speaker 1: melting down, your arms, your legs, all so heavy, so relaxed,
Speaker 1: so ready for sleep. The darkness around you is gentle, comforting,
Speaker 1: wrapping you in its soft embrace. You're safe in this darkness,
Speaker 1: protected at peace. Nothing can disturb you here. Let go
Speaker 1: of everything. The day behind you, tomorrow will wait. This
Speaker 1: moment is all that exists, and in this moment you
Speaker 1: are completely at peace. Sleep is here all around you,
Speaker 1: inviting you to surrender, to let go, to drift away
Speaker 1: into deep, RESTful, healing sleep. Say yes to sleep. Welcome it.
Speaker 1: You're drifting now, floating on gentle waves of peace, deeper
Speaker 1: and deeper into sleep, So peaceful, so calm, so ready
Speaker 1: to rest. Sleep now, deep, beautiful, peaceful sleep. Let yourself
Speaker 1: go completely, drift into dreams, into rest, into peace. Rest Now,
Speaker 1: sleep deeply, peacefully, completely, Good night, spe