THE POWER OF WATER

I am always amazed at the power of water.

My faucet works when I choose.

We turn on the faucet spigot and out it comes, at whatever speed we wish.
We have control over a faucet.

But when it rains, really hard, in a short period of time I am spellbound at it's rush around and through anything in its path.
Flooding storms are infrequent up north but are almost expected down south.
Even though expected, I think those ambushed by raging water are stunned at its force.

Systems created to expel the water into streams and lakes and even the ocean cannot carry water fast enough.  Streets flood, homes flood and extra stress is placed on anything in the way of this determined force of wet.

Dad has lived part time in a small, first floor condo for decades.  Flooding has happened as close as a couple blocks away but never in his domaine.

Niagara Falls gushes forth with nothing to hold back
the torrent of wet, the power of splash.

That's why I was startled that water engulfed his home up to three inches after a torrential rain - six inches in two hours.  

Actually, I found out that the rain did not directly affect his tiny abode.
In fact, it was routed around his edifice through a well planned drainage system.
His condo and his neighbor's condo were the only two homes that were flooded.
What happened?
From what I understand, this three story complex has a specific drainage system on its flat roof.
Water cannot linger on the roof long because of a double-drain system.  The water that does not drain off the side is captured into a central pipe that allows excess water to flow down through the building, under the two bottom condos and out into two separate drainage systems.

the back of dad's favorite chair.  Water went right under it,
missed the couch, on the right, and oozed through the
glass doors that were closed.

Flooding rain, falling with great force, presses into the tiny space of a pipe as it is pushed out onto a larger drainage system.
Heavy rain,
 pressing water,
 pressure,
46 year old pipes,
most likely pipes with fissures,
old, cracking cast iron pipes.
C r a c k . . . C r a c k
Puuuuuuush
Pressssssss through ground and concrete and whatever else is in the way.
F    L    O    O    D !

The condo next door, a newly renovated home, only occupied a few months a year, fills with a half-foot of water.  What is not contained in the neighbor's space is pressed through the concrete dividing wall.  Another stream presses out their door and into dad's place.  Sand, snails and stinky water ooooooozes into every space it can find.

See the mirror? It was taken off of the wall, below.  It made
the room look double its size.  Now all gone.  All walls
are now gone as mold lingers inside.  All must be sanitized.

Water races across tile,
 hits walls,
forces itself in any unhindered direction it can find.
The natural slant of the old concrete floors directs the water into the lanai but this gush of goo first presses into the living room carpet.

Sticky ooze works itself down the little hall into other carpeted rooms.
The old carpet with its spongy pad absorbs as much as it can.

WHAT A BLESSING!

It's the old carpet, so in need of replacing, that saved the furniture from being buried in yucky, smelly sediment.
Not even the skirt of the couch was touched as waves of 'splash' swept past it in one direction.

Dry wall absorbed all that passed by,

The wall with the DOTS is where the mirror was stuck to the entire wall.
This is a look at the dining room after a preliminary inspection.  All walls
are now gone, the piano found a good home and the floors are clear of debris.

Kitchen cupboards, made of pressed wood, absorbed.
Bathroom cabinets of the same pressed wood absorbed.
All that was attached to any wall  a b s o r b e d  this gooey,  smelly wet.

Because he loved to dine on the lanai, the dining room was used more for
an office.  He loved to spread out his paper work and linger there a few
hours each day.  

This old, tired little home was unoccupied for a season or two as dad now relishes in the comfort of assisted living.  He's 99.  When told that his winter retreat flooded he did not mind.  He only remembers the good days of lounging in his favorite chair reading the Wall Street Journal.
I am glad.
It happened at the perfect time for him.

Dad is still living a good life, pampered by caretakers and eating whatever he wants - cooked by someone else.

Dad cooked the perfect instant oatmeal each morning,
just inches away from his favorite table in the kitchen.

This well-loved home will pass into another era.
The foundation is still strong and the complex is well managed.
Just like dad, the place is old and has creaky-cracky pipes.
I wonder, will the 'fixes' be enough to placate flooding waters in the future?
Hope so.

I took a picture of the living room facing the 'mirror.'
You can see the lines of each panel.  It was all the rage
thirty years ago and made the place looks so large.
We will open up this space and let light into the kitchen.
But, I think I will miss the fun we had with the mirror.

But, it won't look like his beloved abode.
Isn't it wonderful that disaster sometimes happens when we no longer care.
We will fix it up to be better than before.
All too soon it will be like new.
Old memories linger in my heart but there are new memories to be made in this sweet place.

The power of water is beyond my imagination but the power to regroup and grow new memories is even more powerful.