The Journey Inward

He navigated on the left side of the road driving from the right side of the car,
Operating the manual transmission with his non dominant hand,
Finding that old clutch/gear shift groove,
So that I relaxed into the passenger seat on the left side, 
Which meant I held his other hand with my other hand,
The opposite of back home in the States.

We meandered up the coastline, in no rush and open to adventure,
Traveling from Dundee, Scotland up to Aberdeen,
Catching glimpses here, full panoramas there, of the North Sea,
Not blocked from our sight like the ocean views back home,
Where houses, hotels, restaurants, bars, boardwalks, and water parks,
Hog all of the glory for themselves and leave the ocean drive visitor excluded,
Bereft of any of the comfort, solace, and inspiration Nature provides.

It was on this drive that we saw the sign - 
"Lighthouse for Sale" -
And an arrow pointing to a long, winding dirt road.
We exchanged looks, raised eyebrows and turned without a word,
Both knowing this was a place we had to check out, had to see.
We drove slowly past farms that spread like lush green shag carpeting to the cliffs,
Standing like rocky sentries watching over the sea below,
Past the sheep and cows living harmoniously,
Past the old farm machinery and pick up trucks,
To the end of the road.
To the lighthouse.

We were drawn here, really, without question,
We both knew we had to see it,
Perhaps we each had visions in our head,
Of how this could become ours,
How this old lighthouse could bring us new adventures,
A fool's folly, I suppose, as it was remote and you know, 
In another country.

Yet our excitement grew as we came to the end of the potholed lane,
And saw the unattractive, not particularly well kept lighthouse,
Not functional, no longer in service,
But in the most remarkable site.
The lighthouse.
A dream?  A fantasy?  A mirage?
Maybe.
But it sure felt like home.

Photo:  Montrose, Scotland.  7.1.24 by LA