There once lived a man John Vanhollen, who lived in Maine. The oldest of three. His father was a sailor at sea. Now age seventy-three he had short white hair, and a trimmed white beard. Stood 6’3, and was very thin. Always wore a navy blue hat with a white T-shirt, and blue jeans. Smoked a wooden pipe. For forty-two years he was the light house keeper. Guiding ships safely into harbor. He was never married, but fell in love once with a blue eyed girl, than she moved away. This old light house was all he ever had. It stood tall on no more than three acres of rocky land. Its stripes were red and white. Sadly one night John Vanhollen died in his sleep. A few weeks later a young man by the name Henry Anderson took over the position of the new light house keeper. While unpacking his things, Henry opened an old desk drawer. Inside he found a folded up letter, and it read, “she was the only thing I ever had, my one true love. I put my years, blood, and sweat into this lighthouse. I hope who ever finds this letter will do the same, and take care of her as I did” Henry folded the letter up, and placed it back inside the drawer. Years later Henry was now sixty-five. He was looking for a pen. When he opened the desk drawer he noticed a folded piece of paper had fallen to the ground. He picked it up, and read it again with more understanding than before. Like the old man, Henry had never married. And this lighthouse was all he ever had. He put all his years, blood, and sweat into the lighthouse guiding ships safely into harbor. After reading the letter, he folded it up again put it back in the drawer once more. With hopes that the next lighthouse keeper would find it. Like he had many years before, and take care of her like he, and the old man had.
– Jamie Whorton ©