Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

I hesitate too long before going to Annie. By the time I push myself up, Nanea’s mom and the other mothers are already stepping into the trench and checking on their children. Annie’s mother gathers her up, and Annie dissolves into her arms, sobbing. Shame washes over me. I spent the whole drill frozen like a frightened little kid instead of comforting Annie.

Once the drill wraps up, Nanea gives me a hand climbing out of the trench. I mumble an apology that I didn’t help out more. Nanea assures me it’s fine, admitting she’d been frightened, too, and holds up a hand that’s still trembling slightly. Then her fingers find mine, and together we hurry back toward the school.

Mrs. Mitchell cancels the rest of the first-aid class, since none of the kids want to be separated from their mothers now. That suits me fine. All I want right now is to get home to my own mother.

Back in his car, Gene offers me a ride home, and I nod gratefully, explaining that I live near the beach. Nanea, Lily, and I barely speak during the drive. Once Gene stops near the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, I hug my two new friends goodbye, then climb out and head for the sand.

Once I’m safely alone, out of anyone’s view, I slip the puka shell necklace off over my head. Everything tilts and spins for a moment, and my legs wobble all over again. But as soon as solid ground settles back beneath me, my brothers come into view. I’ve made it home.

A wave of relief rolls through me, as steady as the surf. Aidan and Alex are still putting the finishing touches on their sand castle, so I drop onto my blanket to catch my breath. Did any of that actually happen, I find myself wondering, or did I just imagine the whole thing?

I flinch when Aidan snatches up a squirt gun and announces war on Alex. I’m grateful my brothers don’t actually have to worry about real war. Memorizing Japanese bomber silhouettes, lugging gas masks, or crouching in a trench during a drill simply isn’t part of their world.

Maybe it’s for the best we stayed behind instead of joining Dad in Iraq, I realize now. Going away wasn’t Dad abandoning us. He left us here to keep us safe.

For the first time, loneliness loosens its grip, replaced by something closer to gratitude. I draw in a deep breath and stretch out across my blanket, letting the sun and the safety of home settle over me.