The Lighthouse, part 1

My father carried me for miles already. It was snowing and the coldness was pinching our cheeks. He made a carry belt out of two old scarves, put it over his neck, and used it to hold me as I was too young and could not walk in the deep snow.

We must have been on the road for hours. I was only four years old when that happened. I didn't understand much. My father was smiling at every look directed at him. Or at least he was trying to. He looked exhausted and sick. His beard was grey and unshaven, and without any form. The look in his eyes was betrayed by the heavy eyebags and wrinkles that formed during our journey.

"Daddy?", I said, "Can I have some water?".

He didn't think twice. Immediately he found a tree under which we hid from the falling snow and put me over his bag.

"Wait here a bit".

Then he pulled an empty flask from his bag and went downhill close to the river to get some water. He came back and handed me the flask.

“Here, just don't drink it fast, it's cold!”

I tried a bit but I couldn't drink. I gave the flask back. He had a sip.

"Daddy? How long until we get there?"

"I don't know sweety. If we keep going I hope to be there in three days. There will be warm. Be patient. We'll arrive soon".

I didn't understand much. I was just hanging on his carry-belt scarf. How could I understand? I didn't understand love, care, what has to be done, what doesn't. I was four.

As we continued going through the valley, my father took a warmer blouse from the bag and put it on me.

"Keep this for now, it's getting cold", he said.

We walked for a while before we reached a large curve on the road. It was not the distance that tired my father, nor the soft snow through which he was walking, or the freezing weather that we were exposed to. It was the worry of what was expecting us once we arrived. People are not completely certain of what they'll face once they go on such a long journey. No matter how much my father wanted to cheer me up, his face revealed his fears. He was indeed afraid of the distance, the soft snow through which he had to walk, and the 14 kilos he had to carry on his neck.

As we walked almost half the curve my father noticed a man laying on the snow under a tree, near the road made of steps. We approached him.

"Hey! Are you awake?", my father yelled.

He didn't get any answer. He put me down over his bag and immediately ran toward the person. He grabbed him by his jacket.

"Can you hear me? Mister?"

The man was not responding. I was watching from the distance. What could I do? My father came back to me and from the bag pulled off another bottle full of hot water. He knew what we were going to go through. Otherwise, why would he have hot water in his back otherwise? He put some of it over his hands and started to rub them. He hugged the other person close and put his hands first over his face and then over his chest. Then took the bottle with warm water and poured some of it down the man's throat. He repeated that a few times. After a while, the other man inhaled strongly.

"What is happening?", asked the stranger.

"You were freezing to death. We found you unconscious. I had to warm you up so that your blood starts flowing again", my father explained.

The stranger sat there for a while before he finally recovered.

"Can I have some water?", asked the man.

My father passed him the flask with water. He drank almost all of it.

"Where are you going?"

"We go thirty miles away from here, you wouldn't know.", said my father.

"Are you bringing the child all the way from the village?".

"Yes, she is my daughter".

"Not sure how you're gonna go through this storm with that weight. Maybe find a place to rest", he proposed.

"No place to rest nearby", said my father as he started preparing to continue our trip. "Maybe it'd be better for you if you come with us now?".

The stranger stared at my father as if he heard some bad news, and not as if someone just saved his life. Right before we left, he jumped on his feet.

"I am coming with you. I will be walking until we have to split".

We continued walking, right after the curve and a large narrow valley showed up in front of us. There is something worse than cold and snow. It's cold, snow and wind. And this valley was about to hit us hard.

Indeed, the wind hit us hard.

From time to time, it felt as if my father was losing it. Then he'd stand strong and continue walking in a narrowed position, down the valley.

"Just for a bit more, sweety".

"Uh, this is not going to be a bit. Look at this ugliness. Looks like a death valley", the stranger said.

"We're gonna make it, just keep tough", my father tried to outwit the wind.

How could he carry me through this weather? I don't understand it to this day.

The coldness is not scary when you know where you're going, but this one was. Even for me, as courageous as a four-year-old could be. I would occasionally look over my father's snowy face to see if he was still smiling. He'd smile, and when he thought I didn't see him anymore, he'd frown. He was terrified but never showed that as a feeling. He had one goal in mind, and that goal was not getting to our destination. It was crossing the snowy and windy valley.

The stranger was right, it was ugly. It took hours until the weather started to look normal. Or at least the same as before we went down the valley.

"What is worse Daddy? Going down or up the valley?", I asked him.

"It's the same if you're not moving at all, isn't it?", he said.

I could not understand him then, but now I do.

"If you go down, your legs are gonna hurt, if you go up, your back. That is the only difference. When you move, there's gotta be pain.", he said.

When we reached the lowest point in the valley my father said we had to eat.

"Do you have any food?", my father asked the stranger.

"I have just three pieces of bread".

"Well, three people, three pieces of bread, and I will get some fish from the river", said my father.

"If you could both each just one piece I'd be very grateful, I have a long way ahead and I cannot stay without any food".

"Sure, no problem", said my father.

He then put his bag down, put me over it, and went towards the river. The stranger sat next to me and looked at me awkwardly. He didn't know how to deal with kids. He was even afraid of me. Luckily my father came back very soon, with 2 large fish on a stick.

"Can you make a fire?", asked the stranger.

"No, nobody can make a fire in this place".

Everything was covered in snow and every once in a while the wind was reminding us that we were the guests there.

"We eat them alive", my father continued.

He tore off one of the fish with a knife he kept in his pocket, cleaned up a piece of meat, and put it in the piece of bread that the man gave him. He then passed it to me.

"Here sweety, eat this".

He then took the remaining fish and started cleaning a piece for him. He ate that piece in one bite. He turned to the stranger and noticed that he had already eaten all of the other fish. Together with his bread. I will never forget that my father ate only a bite of raw fish that day, after carrying me for almost 20 miles on his neck, saving a stranger's life, and going through a few hours-long fight with snow, wind, and coldness. I looked him straight in the eyes. He saw that.

"Don't worry, I am all good, I had enough before we went off", he said.

The stranger finished his meal and sat next to my father.

"But where are you going anyway?".

"We are going to the lighthouse at the end of the cape".

"Uh, that's like 45 more miles away from here, you know?".

"We'll get there", said my father looking at me smiling.

"And what business does a man with a small child have there?"

"A business of his own", my father said.

"Will you be carrying that child all the way through?"

"Yes, I will".

"What if you die?", asked the stranger.

"I must not die, I have to carry her back".

"How can you know, look at the weather, how cold it is".

"Now, you don't care about us, make sure you don't fall asleep again on the road", said my father.

"Why don't you let the child walk herself?"

"She is too young and the snow is difficult to walk through, even for me".

The night calmly fell. I remember the feeling of not having to ask us for permission. We had to comply with that. I felt sleepy and my father already knew that.

"Dad, I want to sleep".

"Let me find something to put you to sleep".

"Can you watch after her for a while, I will be right back", I overheard my father from the distance. He then vanished into the darkness.

The stranger came close and sat next to me. I felt very uncomfortable with him. As the darkness overtook the valley, the weather got much worse. I stood up to see if my father was coming, but I couldn't. How could I? I was too short.

The stranger fixed his eyes on me for a while.

"Don't worry now, Daddy will be back.", he said with hesitation.

It's been a whole already. And my father was still not back.

"Now, where is your father?"

I didn't know. I couldn't. I just wanted Daddy to be there next to me. I was sleepy. It felt like hours since he left.

Suddenly, as we waited there in our spot, we heard a loud animal roar, something like a moose or a bear. My hair got up.

"What could that be?", the stranger asked.

We waited for some more time there but nothing happened.

Then the stranger stood up and came very close to me.

"You see kid, looks like Daddy's not coming back. That loud noise we heard, I bet that was a bear tearing him off. I cannot imagine that a man could survive an animal attack over here. Now I owe that father of yours a lot. If he was not there at the right time, I would have died. The least I can offer is that you come with me. But I cannot carry you just like he did, do you understand me?".

I nodded as I sat on the rug made of my father's bag. I will never forget how afraid I felt at that moment.

"Is Daddy coming back?", I asked.

"No. Most probably not", said the stranger. "Do you want to come with me?"

I shook my head no.

"It's your choice dear, but that bear that ate Daddy, will come here for more".

"Daddy's coming back.", I said.

"Not sure about that".

"He will".

The stranger finally picked up his things, and once again came close to me. He leaned over and from the bag took the bottle of warm water and the extra blouse my father carried just in case.

He then put his finger on his nose and disappeared into the darkness. I could not see anything anymore. As the snow started falling again, crashing over the last hopes I had to see my father, I fell on my knees and started crying bitterly. I could not cry any other way, how could I? I was only four years old. I felt afraid and sad.

As I was sobbing, in the middle of nowhere, a silhouette of an unknown man appeared in front of me.

"Is this a bear?", I was thinking. I closed my eyes and waited in silence.

Then as I was about to fall, the man came very close, threw a dead animal over the snow next to me, and hugged me tight.

"You are cold sweetheart I know... sorry for taking so long", my father said.

"Daddy?", I looked at him. It was him. I could feel his warmth and the smell of his breath.

He smiled and this time he meant it. He held me tight and then covered me with what seemed to be the fur of a bear. He went inside too. We both fell asleep immediately.

When we woke up, the dawn already brightened the valley. We got out of the fur and saw the mess that the stranger left before robbing us and leaving.

"He took your warm clothes and the bottle of warm water".

"It'd be a pity if that stops us now from going on", my father said firmly.

"Daddy, where did you find this bear fur?".

"This is not bear's fur darling. It's a deer. I had to kill it, unfortunately, otherwise, we'd freeze to death", he said.

"It took some time to clean it from the inside and bring it here, that is why I got back so late".

Poor father. He went so far away, had no idea what he was after, only to find this huge deer and kill it so that we had a place to sleep. Had he not done that, we'd be dead by now. I for sure.

"And Daddy, what are we going to eat?"

"Be patient sweety, let's go for a bit and then we figure out what to eat".

My father collected our things in the bag, put it on his back, and took me over the scarf that was already hanging on his neck.

We continued our journey.

I sat there in his scarf, in the coldness of the weather, warmed by his determination and body warmth. My father's scarf was my savior, but it was his burden. A punishment worse than crucifixion, without any guilt.

That day, my father carried me for 15 more miles.