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and the play on the beach. Hours later I
woke up. There were no windows in my room and it was dark and stuffy. I laid for a few minutes
with the blankets thrown back, shaking the warm nightclothes away from my body, trying to
whip up a cool breeze. The longer I laid there the heavier the air seemed. I could hear the boys in
the next room, one of them snoring loudly, fairly shaking the front room window, the other
breathing heavy in the close room. At first it was funny listening to them competing with the
noisy ocean but I couldn't go back to sleep. They jangled my nerves until I finally got up and
found my old robe in the dark. I felt my way through the curtain into the lighter front room.
    Moonlight was forcing its way through the dirty window. The air was fresher in the
larger room, but not much. Outside had to be better, and away from the snoring.
    The night was warm and unusually dry. Willie had said it hadn't rained for days. The
grass was sandy and dry under my bare feet. Away from the protection of the cabin, a fresh wind
brushed my face and blew my hair against my neck.
    Trees and beach alike were patterned in moon shadows bouncing off some dark clouds
above. The moon was full and white. It lit the way easily. I walked to the lip of the little hill
overlooking the beach, sat down carefully and gave myself up to the warm beauty of the
night.
    I was admiring the silhouette of Haystack and watching the waves breaking on the low
tide when I noticed something I'd not seen in the daytime, white fire on the waves. As they broke
and ran down the beach the foam shimmered. I held my breath as diamonds of fire sparkled on
each wave.
    On my far right I could see a faint twinkle of light from the ocean. At first I thought it
was coming from a ship, then I realized it was from a rock out in the water. A lighthouse sitting
on a rock in the sea, its light blinking in a steady rhythm.
    I sat for a while soaking up the romantic atmosphere, feeling lonelier by the minute. It
was a night made for love. A full moon, tide out, fresh warm air, running waves of fire
shimmering on the dark sea, with only the single man-made light sparkling in the dark. I longed
for a strong arm to pull me close, a bristly cheek to brush against my neck, tender hands and lips
to share this moonlit night with. But try as I did, I couldn't conjure up a vision of anyone special
I wanted with me.
    Opening my eyes I took in the scene around me once more, sighed, and let my practical
nature take over. It was long after midnight, I should be in bed. I'd left the cabin door open, and
the fresh air had calmed the boys' dreams so that the cabin was peacefully quiet and cool. Sleep
came easily.
    Waking early the next morning I dressed quickly, went to the front room window and
saw water, a wide, white beach of waves running far down both ways from the window. And
rocks, huge rocks. Haystack was the biggest of all. In the distance to the right was the one with
the lighthouse on it. They were scattered all up and down the coast just a little ways out from the
surf, like dark guardians of the ocean. We had a grand view from that cabin.
    I rushed through breakfast with the boys, packed their lunch buckets, and waved them
off to work. As soon as they were gone I threw a light jacket and a scarf on and went out to a
wonderful, sunny morning.
    The tide was partially out. As soon as I got down the bank, I took off my shoes and left
them there with my socks stuffed in. Who was going to steal them? Following the same route as
the day before, I was determined to get to the big rock. It didn't seem as far away as before,
probably because I was rested. The early morning beach was strewn with what I soon learned
were sand dollars, round, white shells about three inches across, with an interesting design of
five narrow ovals, finger-like markings spread from a base like sunrays. I put them in my
pockets, along with lots of small, orange fan-shaped shells, and some other kinds, --'til