The sun caresses face and back, free of restraint or judgment. Waves roll in, each unique and glorious in their insistence. Sand swirls in the undertow and under toe.

I am bounded by the water, held in its embrace. I sway with the motion, brace for the impact of each breaking wave. Some pass by as oceanic shrugs of indifferent acceptance. Others break farther out, petering to a gentle wash of foam. The good ones crash upon me, battering, shoving, jostling, and sending assassin tendrils of stinging salt up my flared nostrils.

Undaunted, I push slowly forward, out from the land, out from responsibility and quotidian reality. A laugh bubbles forth with each strike, an unintelligible giggle. Perhaps I appear foolish or mad, as I have before.

I know better.

Words fail me. Reason takes a holiday. My family members may be wondering about me at this point.

No matter.

Each time, with each burst of brine, I laugh and say to the sea, to the heavens, to the gods themselves, “Go ahead, hit me again.”