Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

Overseas. That’s where Dad’s stationed now. I wonder, if I look out over the sea far enough, if I’ll find him there.

Squinting against the sun, I look past my little brothers building a sand castle nearby, out to where the horizon blurs into the sky. A flicker of light catches there. Maybe, I tell myself, it’s Dad’s plane heading home, tipping its wing to say aloha to me.

Having Dad gone feels unbearable. As an army family, we’ve followed him from base to base for as long as I can remember, which is how we landed on Oahu six months back. Then summer arrived, and the army shipped him off to Iraq. Mom insisted it was too dangerous for the rest of us to tag along. But if it’s too dangerous for us, then why is Dad going?

Nobody brings up where Dad really is. We just call it “overseas,” as if he’d gone on vacation, and I act like Mom, the boys, and I are fine, too. Hawaii still hasn’t felt like home without him.

A squeal breaks through the noise around me. It’s my brother Alex, chased by his twin, Aidan, who’s brandishing a cup of water. I’m ready to order them both to calm down, but Auntie Oli beats me to it, grabbing Aidan before he can stomp their sand castle flat.

Well, somebody’s enjoying themselves, I think, smoothing out my towel. My brothers have it easy since they’ve always got each other, but with Dad away, who’s left for me? Back in California, I had Kayla, and Mom keeps pushing me to make friends here, but why bother getting close to anyone if we’re bound to pack up and move again?

These days Mom works long hours and is barely home during the day, which leaves Auntie Oli, our new babysitter, in charge. She’s still practically a stranger to me. Before leaving the house this morning, Mom reminded me to treat Auntie Oli kindly, pointed out all she’s done to make us feel welcome. Then, she rhetorically wondered aloud where my aloha spirit had gone. I’m not sure I even know what that means. Maybe I left it in California with Kayla, or maybe it boarded the plane with Dad two weeks ago.

At least there’s Nancy Drew, I remind myself, brushing sand off my new mystery novel. I try to focus, but the scent of Auntie Oli’s guava bread, made for tonight’s picnic, keeps drifting my way, and the noisy beach makes it hard to concentrate. Then a bark reaches my ears. Wait, what?

Nancy Drew is great, but dogs top my list of favorite things, and I’ve begged Mom for one. But she always says our house has enough bodies to look after without adding another. Beyond a cluster of umbrellas, something catches my eye—a salt-and-pepper tail swishing back and forth, flinging sand as it digs for something. If Mom were here, she’d tell me not to go near a strange dog. But that tail wags in such a friendly way that I get up for a closer look.

As I weave my way through the colored umbrellas, I start to see the dog more clearly. She has a pretty green collar dotted with tiny flowers circling her neck—proof she belongs to someone. She has scruffy fur and floppy ears that frame her face. Something dangles from her mouth when she yanks it from the hole. Curious, I ask what she found. She sticks her rump in the air, begging me to chase her. She wants a playmate. She drops her prize, barks, and sprints toward the hotel next door, so pink it rivals the strawberry shave ice sold on the beach. My eyes need a second to adjust from all that pink, and by then she’s gone. I glance down at the gift she left behind for me. It’s a heap of shells that rises together as one when I lift it. A necklace.

Nearby, a woman relaxing beneath a candy-apple red umbrella, her little girl napping at her side, remarks that it resembles an antique puka shell necklace, once given to travelers setting off on a journey to guarantee safe, calm passage. She asks whether I have a trip of my own coming up.

Not until Dad’s home again, I silently answer. I just shake my head.

A second bark drags my attention back toward the hotel. I glance back to my brothers, and I see them piling sand-filled cups into a shaky tower while Auntie Oli holds it steady. Clearly, they don’t need me hovering. My watch shows 3:22 PM, plenty of time before we eat. So I decide to go play with the dog a little more. I start walking to the hotel, slipping the puka shell necklace over my head to avoid losing it. Just as I free my hair from the tangle of shells, though, the ground vanishes beneath my feet. An ocean breeze rushes past, and everything goes pink and hazy.