The ocean is a magnet.

The summer sea draws to it cars with out of state plates; people in swim suits, lugging coolers, beach chairs and umbrellas. Toting frisbees and children and dogs, they flock in droves to the sandy shore, pack themselves in tight. Fly kites and build castles, lay claim, for a moment, to small pieces of self made kingdoms by the sea.

Those who heed the call of the summer sea are visitors and surface dwellers.

They skim waves on surfboards slick with wax, coat their bodies in sunscreen.
Buoyant, they bob to the surface shrieking and laughing back to the shore. Never once in danger of being swept out by the riptide or sinking too far beneath the surface.

But sometimes….in the “off season,” the ocean grows angry.

She rages over the shore, sweeps castles out to sea.
Egged on by a wind that shreds kites, she swallows the boardwalk.
Allows no entry.
Becomes feral and uncivilized.

When the tempest tantrums, there is a different breed that heeds her call.

Those who answer the call of the angry ocean are quiet and reflective. They do not shriek or laugh or skim the surface.

Those who respond to the fevered pitch of wind and surf arrive alone and dive deep.

They stand against the railing, spaced out from one another, eyes lowered they nod but do not speak. They are heavy with baggage not able to be neatly folded and packed away when the sun sets and it is time to head home.

They do not dare to step beyond the boundary established by the sea.

They know instinctively that they are not buoyant. That they will not bob to the surface unscathed.

Those who answer the call of the angry ocean know there is no lifeguard on duty and that the riptide is waiting.

Know that there is a point when they will no longer be able to touch bottom.

Know there is a point off the shore that they will never make it back from should they be beguiled too far out by the sea.

Those who answer the call of the angry ocean silently rage along with her, override the urge to rush into the foaming surf, take a breath, grasp the rail, and do their best to remain on solid ground.