Last Friday evening marked the end of a four-decade era out at Wasque. A relatively small excavator began pulling the Wacks house, piece by piece, back from the brink. About 10 feet of the seaward-most corner of the house projected into thin air beyond the edge of solid ground. That ground was really not so solid, as the concrete foundation pulled away from the wood of the structure. It’s alarming how easily sand departs when it’s not surrounded by lots of other sand.

When the Wacks’s dream house was constructed back in the mid-80s, the Atlantic Ocean was a whole quarter of a mile away. There was plenty of protective land between the surf and the dwelling. There were several Jeep trails and, at one time, a boardwalk so long that sometimes we would just be satisfied to hear the crashing of waves from the vantage of the parking lot.

It’s fitting that the excavator performing the dismantling has rubber treads. That goes along with the comment from a friend of the family who said that the house seemed to rest gently on the land. My conversation with the person in charge of the operation showed me that he was mindful and respectful of the grief felt by the owners and neighbors.

Soon, even the earth where the house stood will be washed away. The sound of crashing waves will replace the many years of human voices at a wonderful gathering spot.