Early each morning he rows out on the ocean to fish. Laying out a net would be more effective, but he has no need for saving time. He has nothing else to do besides turning the light on and off, and the occasional maintenance of the lamp. And he enjoys being out in his boat much more than the inside of the lighthouse.
He spends all day on the ocean. She is always good to him, mostly quiet, but even in storm, she spares his little house from the worst waves. Only once in all their years together she took a brick from his roof. But nothing more.
As the sun starts setting, he returns to his little island to cook some dinner, but most importantly, to light up the big lamp. There are rarely any boats passing here, but nevertheless, it is of the biggest importance that it gets lit up every night. Because what if?
Sometimes he goes out in the boat again, once it’s dark. It’s a beautiful sight to see what he hopes is the lifesaving light of the big lamp that he’s been carefully tending to for years and years. Oftentimes he falls asleep out there, but he never drifts too far. He usually wakes up before dusk anyways, right in time to follow the light home, to turn it off, and return to his beloved ocean once again.
It’s a very uneventful life. Just how he likes it.