I called Daniel Reyes.
He was already overloaded.
“We're monitoring the whole coastline,” he said.
“Do I need to do anything?”
“Secure what you can. Keep drainage clear. Don't modify the wall.”
“I won't.”
“And if the HOA tells you otherwise?”
I paused.
“Then I'll call you.”
He laughed.
“That's probably wise.”
The storm arrived at night.
I stayed awake.
The wind hit the windows in long bursts.
Rain swept sideways across the glass.
The ocean became invisible.
Then the sound changed.
That was what I remember most.
Not the wind.
Not the rain.
The sound.
A deep, repeated impact coming from the rear of the property.
I walked downstairs.
The seawall was holding.
Water rose against it.
The drainage outlets were working.
The anchors held.
The wall flexed almost imperceptibly under pressure.
But it did not move.
At two in the morning, I heard another sound.
A crack.
Not concrete.
Wood.
I looked through the window.
A large section of Karen's decorative fence had collapsed.
Her property sat lower.
Water had begun pushing through her yard.
I called emergency services.
The county had already issued evacuation guidance for the lowest properties.
Karen's house was among them.
Her lights came on.
Then went off.
Then came back.
I saw movement inside.
The storm continued.
At three-thirty, the water reached the edge of my patio.
At four, the wall was taking the full pressure of the surge.
At four-fifteen, a section of the neighboring shoreline disappeared.
But the wall remained.
At sunrise, the storm moved inland.
The neighborhood looked like it had aged fifty years overnight.
Trees were down.
Fences were broken.
Deck furniture had disappeared.
Several yards had lost sections of soil.
Karen's yard had lost approximately three feet of elevation along its rear edge.
The ornamental grass was gone.
The planted berm was gone.
The decorative shrubs were gone.
The ocean had accepted all of them without negotiation.
My wall was still standing.
The county arrived before noon.
So did engineers.
Daniel Reyes walked the seawall with two other officials.
One of them crouched near the base.
Another inspected the drainage.
Daniel looked toward me.
“You got lucky.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He smiled slightly.
“You're right.”
He pointed to the wall.
“That's not luck.”