Cass and the Slow, Slow Light

Pop! went the little lamp on the wall, and the lighthouse kitchen turned soft and gold. Cass was a small sea turtle with a shell like a smooth brown pebble. Cass sat in a round tin tub, and the warm water came up to the chin.

Priya the puffin keeper sat close by, on a stool, with a big fluffy towel on her lap. 'Bath first,' said Priya. 'Then blanket. Then light.'

'Is it time?' asked Cass. 'Is the light here yet?' 'Not yet,' said Priya. 'The light comes when the light comes.'

Far out at sea, the bell buoy rang one low, slow note. Bong. Cass held very still and listened. The sea outside the window was calm and flat, like a sheet of silver glass.

The kitchen smelled of salt and rope and warm oil from the little lamp. Cass took a deep breath of it and let it out slowly.

'Shhh,' whispered Cass. 'Slow, slow, slow. The light comes when the light comes.'

Cass blew a big bubble in the bath. Pop! It floated up and landed on Cass's nose. Cass blew another one. Pop! Pop!

'One bubble,' said Cass. 'Two bubbles. Three.' Each pop made Cass giggle.

The lighthouse beam swung past the fishing boats. It was long and gold, and it went round and round, but it was not at the window yet. 'Not yet,' said Priya.

Cass watched the beam go past the rocks. It was slow, and long, and quiet.

Priya lifted Cass out and rubbed him dry with the fluffy towel. She dried one flipper. Then two flippers. She dried ten tiny toes. Cass was dry, and warm, and just a little bit sleepy.

Then Cass sat on the window ledge, wrapped up in a soft blue blanket. Cass tucked the little stuffed fish under the blanket too, to keep the spot warm. 'We will save this warm spot for the light,' said Cass.

'The light has a long way to go,' said Priya. 'It goes all the way round the island first.' Cass nodded. 'Then we will wait,' said Cass.

Bong, went the bell buoy. Bong, bong. 'Three,' said Cass. 'Three slow bongs.' Cass wiggled all ten toes under the blanket and hummed a little hum. The hum was slow, like the sea.

'Waiting is slow,' said Cass. 'Waiting is very slow.' 'Yes,' said Priya. 'Slow as the sea.' So Cass counted the sweeps of the light. One sweep. Two sweeps. Three sweeps of the light.

'Shhh,' said Cass. 'Slow, slow, slow. The light comes when the light comes.'

The beam went past the sleepy gulls and the little boats. Round it came, closer and closer, slow as slow.

'Shhh,' said Priya. 'Look now.'

The light came to the window. It came in slow and gold, and it lay down on the blue blanket, right on the warm spot, like a cat curling up to sleep. The blanket glowed.

The light on the blanket was warm as a lap. Cass put one flipper in it.

'It came,' said Cass. 'It came when it came.' Cass yawned a big yawn.

'Shhh. Slow, slow, slow,' yawned Cass. 'The light came when it came.'

Then the beam slid on, round the lighthouse and out over the calm sea. Bong, went the bell buoy, far away. The moon sat in the window, small and round and quiet.

Cass's eyes grew sleepy. Priya hummed a slow hum, the same slow hum as the sea.

Priya carried Cass up the little stairs and tucked him into bed. The blanket was warm. The little stuffed fish was warm. Out of the window, the light went round and round, slow, slow, slow.

Cass closed his eyes. Far out at sea, the bell buoy rang one last soft bong. 'Goodnight,' whispered Priya. 'Goodnight,' whispered the sea. And Cass slept, warm and slow and cozy, while the light went round and round.