Sunset at the Lighthouse

Erin stood on the balcony of the lighthouse. She watched as the sun began to dip into the ocean. Just as she had every evening for nearly a year.

She cupped her hands over the small silver locket that rested against her heart. On the last day they had seen each other, they were swimming together and playing in the same waves that now lapped onto the shore below. They had spent the morning together before Lyndsey broke the news that she would be gone for a while and didn’t know when she would be back. She promised Erin that she would return as soon as she could. In turn, Erin promised that she would be there every sunset until they were reunited.

Erin wrapped her cardigan tighter as the cool ocean breeze picked up. The golden hues dancing across the sky began to fade to blue. Shadows painted the world. The darkness was cast away as the beam of the lighthouse swept across the ocean, only to return darker than before.

The last ray of sunshine was swallowed by the ocean. Erin glanced one last time over the gentle swells. She wiped away tears and stepped away from the edge of the balcony.

Erin heard a faint whistle drifting on the wind. She stopped. Another whistle. This time louder. Familiar. It cut through the gentle crash of the waves. She ran back to the edge of the balcony and scanned the ocean.

The beam of light cut across the ocean, and she saw her. Lyndsey’s head bobbed between the swells. Erin whistled back and Lyndsey burst out of the water with a flick of her tail. She ducked beneath the surface and swam towards the shore.

Erin bolted down the stairs. She sprinted across the beach, into the shallows, and into Lyndsey’s arms.

‘You waited for me,’ said Lyndsey.

‘Every day,’ said Erin. ‘I knew you’d come back to me one day.’