This post is written for Sunday Photo Fiction. My story follows the photo prompt.

“This is what the lighthouse looks like today,” the small figure in a white uniform remarked.

Like the fog in the picture my mind began to clear. It was indeed the Big Sable Point lighthouse not far from our home in Ludington Michigan. But something was wrong, something my mind had not processed yet.

“Where am I and how long have I been here,” I asked.

“You are in the hospital here in Ann Arbor and have been at this facility six months as of yesterday. The doctor’s suggested that showing you this picture may help you come out of your coma.”

I remember now my uncle Jim had just purchased a new 15 foot Boston Whaler. We were camped just south of the lighthouse. We were to meet friends on the north side of the lighthouse. We left in the early morning fog and I remember the hearing the fog signal from that big lighthouse, painted white with its black watch tower and the black band around it.

Uncle Jim let me drive just to keep me quiet. I didn’t realize that a five foot  concrete barrier bridged the distance between the lighthouse  and the nearest point of land.

The boat moved skyward like a whale had surfaced beneath it.

“My Uncle Jim?” I asked. The white image moved  away mumbling “later, when you are rested we can talk some more.”