Areej and the Hundred Steps of the Old Lighthouse

Areej's Uncle Nayef lived in the most wonderful place in the whole world. He lived in a lighthouse.

It stood at the end of a long rocky point, tall and white with a wide red stripe around its middle. At the very top was a round glass room, and inside the glass room was the great lamp. Every evening, Uncle Nayef climbed up and switched it on, so that the fishing boats coming home in the dark could find their way safely into the harbor.

This summer, Areej was six and a half, and she was staying with Uncle Nayef for three whole days.

On the first afternoon, she stood at the bottom of the lighthouse and looked up, and up, and up. A spiral staircase curled round and round inside, like the inside of a seashell.

"How many steps are there?" she asked.

"One hundred," said Uncle Nayef. He had a grey beard, a blue cap, and a laugh like a friendly wave. "Do you want to come up with me tonight and help light the lamp?"

"Yes!" said Areej. "I can climb a hundred steps easily."

That evening, when the sky turned peach and pink, they began to climb. Areej's sandals went tap, tap, tap on the iron stairs. The walls were cool and smelled of salt and old paint. Through little round windows, she could see the sea glittering below.

"Ten," counted Areej. "Twenty. Thirty."

At forty, her legs began to feel heavy. At fifty, she was puffing like a little train. At sixty, she stopped and held the railing.

"Uncle Nayef," she said, "I think the steps are getting taller."

Uncle Nayef chuckled. "They always feel that way in the middle. Shall we rest?"

They sat down together on step sixty-one. Areej was cross with her legs. "I said it would be easy," she grumbled. "Maybe I am too small for a lighthouse."

Uncle Nayef did not say anything for a moment. He pointed to the little round window beside them. "Look out there," he said.

Areej looked. Far away on the shining water, she could see tiny boats. They were small as seeds. Each one had a white sail or a little puff of smoke.

"Those are the fishing boats," said Uncle Nayef. "They have been out since early morning. They are tired too. But they keep going, a little at a time, because they know the light will be waiting for them."

Areej watched the boats. They were moving so slowly she could hardly see it. But they were moving.

"A little at a time," she said.

"A little at a time," said Uncle Nayef. "When I climb, I don't think about a hundred steps. I think about the next ten. Then the next ten. Then the next."

Areej stood up. "Just ten," she said.

She climbed ten steps. Seventy! She took three deep breaths of salty air. She climbed ten more. Eighty! Her legs still felt heavy, but now she had a plan. At every tenth step, she touched the wall and said the number out loud, like a little flag on a mountain.

"Ninety!"

The last ten steps were the hardest. Her cheeks were warm. Her knees wobbled. But she could see the top now, a round hatch with golden light glowing around its edges.

"Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine." She gave one big push. "One hundred!"

She climbed through the hatch into the glass room, and she gasped.

The whole world was spread out around her. The sea was wide and gold and rosy. The sun was a huge orange ball sinking into the water. Seagulls drifted below her, white wings shining. She could see the harbor with its little houses, and the long road, and the hills behind, all purple in the evening light.

And in the middle of the room stood the great lamp. It was taller than Areej, made of hundreds of pieces of thick, curved glass, like a giant crystal beehive.

"Now," said Uncle Nayef, "we wait for the sun to go to sleep."

They sat on the floor together and watched. The orange sun slipped lower and lower. The sky turned from pink to purple to deep blue. One star appeared, then two.

"Now?" whispered Areej.

"Now," said Uncle Nayef. He showed her a big brass switch on the wall. "Both hands," he said, "and push it up."

Areej put both hands on the cool brass switch. She pushed. Clunk!

There was a soft humming. Then the great lamp began to glow, first faint, then brighter and brighter, until a long beam of light shot out over the dark water. Slowly, the beam began to turn, sweeping round and round across the sea like a big, kind arm.

Areej pressed her nose to the glass. Out on the water, the tiny boats were coming closer. One by one, they turned toward the light. And then, faintly, across the water, she heard a sound.

Toot! Toot-toot!

"What is that?" she asked.

Uncle Nayef smiled. "That is the fishermen saying thank you. They do it every night."

Areej felt warm all the way down to her toes. She had helped. The light was shining because she had climbed all one hundred steps and pushed the switch with her own two hands.

They stayed up there a long time, watching the beam turn and the boats glide safely into the harbor, their little lamps twinkling like fireflies.

When it was time to go down, Areej yawned a giant yawn.

"Down is easier," said Uncle Nayef.

It was. Areej counted backward all the way, "One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight," and her sandals went tap, tap, tap, much faster than before.

That night, in the little bedroom at the bottom of the lighthouse, she lay in bed and watched the beam pass over her window. Light, then dark. Light, then dark. It was like a slow, gentle heartbeat.

The next evening, Uncle Nayef asked, "Shall we climb again?"

"Yes," said Areej. "But I know it will not be easy."

"Oh?" said Uncle Nayef.

Areej grinned and took his hand. "It will be ten steps at a time," she said. "And ten steps I can always do."