Sitting on the crest of the hill overlooking the ocean, I was not really paying attention to the change in the weather as clouds built up on the horizon. I guess I was just too engrossed in the novel that I was reading. After all, I was a sucker for medieval tails of love, treachery,and adventure.

I absolutely love sitting on the crest of that hill as the ocean breeze gradually undoes whatever victory I had declared upon my hairstyle earlier that day. Gradually the breeze had been followed by a couple of strong gusts that had caught my attention. I lifted my head and waved my arm to the crew of the Sheila Ann as she headed into Stonington Bay. I breathed a sigh of relief that the Sheila Ann was motoring in and not heading out to sea. The clouds that were quickly building looked as if they meant to wreak havoc on the small oceanfront fishing village.

By the time I decided to close my book and gather my blanket, the wind was driving the rain pellets into my skin. As it was too late to start for home, I decided to pay a visit to the couple that tended the lighthouse at the mouth of the bay. I could have picked up my pace and run towards the lighthouse. But what would be the fun in that? Weather such as this brought out something raw and primal within me. I love the excitement of the wind roaring across the ocean, the waves gathering strength, and then being driven into the shore with the force that was looking to destroy whatever that wave met up with.

As I climbed the stairs to the lighthouse my grip had to remain tight on the railings. The wind was so strong now that I had to shield my eyes from the debris in the air. The door to the lighthouse opened and I could feel the heat from the wood stove and the see the glow from the many lamps that Cammi, the wife of the lighthouse keeper, had turned on as it grew dark, very quickly. She greeted me with that look of "you are nuts to be out in this weather".

For the next hour, we sat overlooking the ocean, as the wind raged on. The cries the wind invoked against the building reminded me of an animal in pain at moments and then at other times, reminded me of the joyous sounds of the children riding the merry-go-round at the nearby beach. I sat in quiet reflection while watching the wind coax the clouds into racing across the sky. The crashing of the waves brought wind driven foam over the rocks of the nearby cove.

I decided to depart the company of my friends and battle the last of the storm on my own as I made my way home. As I descended the stairs of the lighthouse, the wind subsided from a lion wanting to tare its pray to shreds, to a soft caress of a breeze gently nuzzling my cheek. Overhead, the black sky was bejeweled by an abundance of stars and a resplendent moon to guide my way home.

Learn more about this author, Cat Tackling.
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