The Old Man and the Lighthouse

Frank slowly walked down the familiar, winding path he had traveled for many years. The only sounds were the crunch of his boots against the trampled dirt and the distant crash of waves against the rocky shore. He sighed as memories came flooding back — the hundreds of ships he had guided safely to harbor, and even the day he plunged into the frigid water to save his friend.

But now, he was done. This would be his last trip to the lighthouse. Age had caught up with him, and he could no longer do the work. He had vowed to pass the job he held so close to his heart to someone he could trust, and at last, he had.

Finally, he reached the weathered lighthouse. He opened the creaky door he had swung countless times and picked up the last bags he had left by the entrance. Taking one final look around, he let the sight sink in, then closed and locked the door. A tear slipped down his cheek as he turned and began the walk back down the path.