Somewhere up the lonely coast of Maine, a blue Honda Civic rattled and bumped up a tiny gravel road. Theo Johnson—a brown-haired, brown-eyed, bored tenth grader—sighed and stared out the window.

Looking back at him in the rearview mirror, Theo’s dad grimaced. “Cheer up Buddy. Only one more hour to go!”

Theo focused on channeling all of his unhappiness into his blank stare. 

Dad sighed. “Come on, this will be a fun trip. You’ll see. It’s been a while since the two of us had a real father-son bonding trip.” 

Theo frowned. He wanted to say, "That’s only because you’re always busy.” Instead, he just heaved an extra-long sigh and went back to watching the coastal evergreens.

They both knew why Theo had been so reluctant to go on this trip. He had made plans back home.  

The last hour of the long, dull car ride from Boston, Massachusetts, to the little coastal town of Teccowah, Maine was uneventful. Before long, Dad pointed out a sign by the side of the road: “Welcome to Teccowah, Maine! Population: 93.”

“Population: 93?” Theo asked. “It’s tiny.” 

“It’s grown quite a bit since I left,” Dad answered. His dark eyes twinkled at Theo in the rearview mirror.   

“You’re kidding,” Theo said.  

Dad replied with a quiet chuckle. Theo rolled his eyes.  

“You didn’t think everywhere was as big as Boston, did you Buddy?”  

Theo put his chin in his hand and watched as little, gray-shingled, wood-sided buildings came into view.

The stores and houses were painted different colors like carnival booths, only older and more faded. Theo and his dad passed by a dusty yellow general store and some green, red, and blue tourist shops.

Theo watched without enthusiasm until something caught his eye over the gray-shingled rooftops.

A lighthouse.

The lighthouse stood on a hill overlooking the town. A lonely white tower rising above the slate blue sea. The lighthouse was made of whitewashed stone and crowned by a black roof.

Even now, during midday, the light at the top glowed bright like a giant candle watching over the people and the boats and the birds. Theo was impressed.

He watched as the lighthouse came closer and closer until Dad stopped the car at a little cottage near the lighthouse grounds. It was white like the lighthouse with the same gray-shingled roof as all the other town buildings and a red brick chimney. An old couple waved at them from the front porch.

Theo and his dad climbed out of the car. While Theo trailed shyly behind, Dad went to greet them. “Aunt Margret! Uncle Henry!” he called. He walked up the front porch steps to hug the man and kiss the woman on the cheek.  

Uncle Henry was old but not bent with age. He stood tall and straight, even though his weathered skin and big, calloused hands showed a lifetime of labor.

Age didn't dull his spark either. Uncle Henry's deep, rumbling laugh seemed almost too big for his lanky frame. “John! How long has it been? Ten years? Fifteen?”  

Theo’s dad laughed. “I have been busy lately. Still, it’s been too long.” They clasped forearms and thumped each other's backs before stepping apart to talk about family and the weather.

Meanwhile, Aunt Margret had noticed Theo. He stood awkwardly behind his father trying hard not to be noticed. “Why, you must be Theo! Goodness, the last time I saw you, you were a baby!” Her voice was soft and kind.

She was a short woman, everything about her round and soft. She hugged Theo with small, plump arms and smelled like jasmine and roses.

Theo was left to endure her fussing for a while, as his dad and Uncle Henry talked about boats and work and fishing.

Aunt Margret’s hair was white as snow, shot through with silver streaks. She was the only old woman Theo had ever seen who kept her hair long instead of cutting it short.

Why did old women like to cut their hair? Theo had never asked, and he never planned to ask. Aunt Margret wore hers up in a ponytail, out of her wide, brown eyes.  

They stood and talked on the porch for a few minutes. Then, Aunt Margret seemed to recall herself.

She pressed a hand to her heart and said, “Goodness! We’ve been letting you stand around. Come in, come in! Henry, why don’t you help John and Theo with their bags?”

Uncle Henry quickly joined her in ushering their guests into the cottage. Soon, they all sat in the comfortable living room. Their bags were stowed away in the room with two double beds. Dad said it used to belong to Aunt Margret and Uncle Henry’s children before they moved out.  

Theo sat on one of the squishy, green-patterned couches and listened to more discussion about fishing and the weather.