#currituck lighthouse

The sun is coming up, my dress is cold. I’m on the sand. There were men out in the tide last night. I didn’t know any of them, but they seemed lost. They were wearing strange clothes and looked battered by the sea. I went to help them, then it all went dark. Cold and dark. Mama and Papa will have been so worried. They always told me I shouldn’t go out at night. I’m running, but I don’t feel my legs. I want to be home, so I am.

The lighthouse is dimming from the last batch of oil put in for the night and the smell of breakfast is enticing. I am in the kitchen, Mama is pacing. She looks confused and worried, but we are all here. I thought she would be more excited to see me. Papa came in. He said something. I don’t understand. They are crying. They are running.

I can’t move. I want to run with them, but something is holding me here. I sit in my room, the North Room they call it. My room. Sadie’s room. The North Room.

Currituck is not a happy place, by any means. We are told to stay out of sight, to hush, to behave. Today it is worse. Everyone is sad. People keep coming to the house to bring mama gifts. There is a box outside. That box has brought the sadness.

Mama didn’t make lunch. She didn’t make dinner. They didn’t set me a place. They won’t tell me what is wrong. I don’t understand. Why are you sad? Why won’t you look at me? Were you not worried about me? Whenever I go to them, they act as if I am not there. They shout my name in sad voices. Voices without hope.

“SADIE, SAdie, sadie…..” their use of my name in their cries worries me. Can they not see me? I yell for them. But they do not hear me. I do not hear me. I sit on my bed in sadness, not the same sadness that fills the cottage, but a lonely sadness. It is warm, the yard should be filled with laughter and the sound of the water crashing on shore. Even the waves seem sad.

The owners of the general store and their son, Charlie, came over this afternoon. I went out to see them. I got Charlie’s attention once. He looked scared. I’m not scary. He was my friend. He should know that.

I feel like an outcast. I think Papa wants to send me away. He came into my room, I ran over to hug him and he walked right by me. He is packing up my things. He took my favorite doll. My only doll. Her name was Carol. He put her in the box. That box of sadness and fear. I will go save her, she is my only friend.

I stand before the box. It is made of driftwood off the beach. It looks like it was made very quickly. The turns and knots on the wood are exciting though. How can this box make everyone so sad. Papa said they were going to put it in the ground. I don’t think that will make the sadness go away. But Carol isn’t going with it. The box is tight. Hard to get into. But the lid comes off

I am white. My dress is cold. I am cold. Something is wrong. Very wrong. I am in the box. Me. Sadie. But I am not in the box. I look into the box. But I am in the box. Cold. Still. Lifeless. I cry. I swell with rage. I do not understand.

I am here.

But I am not here.

I understand the sadness. The sadness of the box. I understand Mama’s tears and Papa’s screams. I understand the fear in Charlie’s eyes. I do not understand the loneliness. I want someone to hold me. They are all here. They will never know. I am gone. But not gone.