How long is a foot ball field? Is it 100 yards? Is that about 300 feet? That pier up there is 850 feet long. It is difficult to take a picture that captures how far out into the ocean this really is. Know that real people are standing at the end of that pier and you can't see them. I think the distance is best illustrated by the good judgment of one careful little soul. On our trip to the beach last week I noticed that our children are old enough now, they must be arriving at the working age of my memory's limit. For the first time in the many times I have taken them down to the coast, they kept reminding me of things long forgotten. They see the beach in a way I used to see it. My daughter found my old foam boots. And my son refused to go to the end of the pier. Of course he did. How could I have stopped noticing that Atlantic Coast fishing piers are truly horrifying?

They all seem to have been built before Jesus got here. They are beyond rickety, are full of snags, fish hooks of lengths directly proportional to the distance from your skin to your internal organs are hiding all over the place, nails are constantly popping out, boards are missing. In fact the boards that remain, the ones able to hold their nails, are spaced too far apart. When I walked out that pier last week, when my son dropped my hand in an abrupt about face and see your ass later Mom, I suddenly thought of the old astrophysicist who took to walking around on tennis rackets to avoid falling through the space between atoms. I was wishing for snow shoes. I was wishing for an air lift. I suddenly could not imagine why I have previously felt safe on a pier. My son doesn't.

This is to say nothing of the ocean moving underneath you. At the end of that pier you have almost cleared the continental shelf. Things live out there. And not just mermaids.

I remember when I refused to go to the end of the pier. In fact, I think I was 10 or 12 before I was brave enough to go to the end. In recent years we would take the kids out there and I was so focused on not dropping them, so afraid of losing them, I did not register how dangerous it really is. Irony. As a young girl I remember comforting myself, standing victoriously at the end, that IF I fell I could probably swim back. And IF the current was too strong for swimming back I could hold onto the very last piling and await help. My Grandmother, the one who in essence gave me the beach as well as an early attraction to tobacco, cards, and Salty Dogs, shot that down pretty quick. "Those pilings are covered in barnacles, Honey. They would cut a person to pieces! Why I saw it myself one time. A woman drunk went over the end. You should have seen how bloody her chest was when they finally managed to pull her out." I was too young, and at that moment probably too horrified, to consider what all that blood in the water out there would inevitably mean. Ahhhhh, Granny. I miss her.

So when we were there last week it was extra scary. Tropical storm Andrea was cranking out in the ocean. We never had much rain. But we had intense wind. Our first day walking down the beach my daughter just spread her eagle arms, leaned forward, and let the wind hold her. I was a little worried she might actually get lifted off her feet. It was a marvelous time to be there. I have never seen the ocean quite like that. It was surreal. The ocean was clearly thrown by a powerful storm yet we could just stand there on the beach watching. Well stand there squinting. Signs are sternly posted all up and down the barrier islands these days. "WARNING Stay off the dunes. $500.00 fine! Protect our dunes!" They should say, "protect our investment" because that is certainly what they really mean. What idiot ever thought to invest millions of dollars on property in motion? The same fella who built those piers, perhaps?

Watching is clearly impossible with tiny shards of sand hurtling toward your eyes at 40 mph. Ever seen a dog squint? I found the dune warnings kind of funny but I dutifully kept my dog and my children off the dunes. It wasn't that hard. The dunes were busy flinging themselves at us.

And out on that pier, at the end, what did I see that day? I saw waves breaking before they ever even reached the pier. Real rolling waves cresting and breaking. I have never seen a wave out that far. Swells, yes. Breaking waves, no. It is amazing to feel the power of the ocean. To stand there and observe your smallness. To smell the excellent brine and fish guts. It is a mysterious and beautiful place. A boy is right to be afraid.