Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

Annie sounds so scared. If that was one of my brothers, I would run to them immediately. So I force myself to stand up and make my way over to Annie. When I get there, she says through her sobs that she wants her mom. I nod and ask if she wants to sit on my lap. She clambers onto my lap and buries her face against my chest, her fingers finding my necklace.

I explain that the shells are called puka shells. My necklace has a lot of them. Hoping it might settle her down, I suggest we count them together. She nods and sets the strand spinning around my neck as the other kids crowd in with guesses. One boy shouts seventeen, another jokes 100 million, and a little girl just holds up all ten fingers.

The guessing is still going strong when the mothers begin arriving. Mrs. Mitchell, Nanea’s mother, is the first to descend into the trench, praising her daughter for getting everyone down so quickly. One by one the rest of the mothers climb in, and their children dash straight for them. Having adults close by steadies my nerves, too, at least until a second siren pierces the shelter and I jump. Is that the gas mask alarm?

It’s just the all-clear, Lily assures me. And like that, the drill has officially ended. I wait while everyone climbs out of the trench. I’m the last to climb out. I wanted to wait until every child left first, and I’m not sure my legs are steady enough to trust yet.

Nanea extends a hand and pulls me out of the trench, complimenting how well I handled the kids and guessing I must be terrific at babysitting my own brothers. I just shrug in response. Looking after my brothers has never once demanded anything close to this.

Annie’s tear-streaked face flashes in my mind, curled up scared and missing her mother. Thank goodness my own brothers never have to lug around gas masks or scan the sky for bombers. Still, it strikes me that they must ache for Dad just as fiercely. I’ve spent so much energy worrying about Dad that I never considered what his absence means for my brothers. Maybe there’s something I can offer them that provides the same comfort I managed to give Annie.

Walking back toward the school, I silently vow to spend more time with my brothers once I’m home. And suddenly, I realize that I need to go home now. Gene offers to drive us all to the beach so I can meet up with my family.

When we get to the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, I wrap both Lily and Nanea in a hug before we part. Grinning, Nanea asks exactly how many shells are in my necklace. I confess I’ve never actually counted and jokingly hold it out to try. She just laughs, insisting the number is beside the point since it’s brimming with aloha, same as me. She says I truly made those kids feel safer today.

I tell her I don’t know. I was really scared today. Nanea says she was scared, too. But that’s exactly what aloha means, helping someone else regardless of your own fear. Maybe, I realize, that’s the secret behind Nanea’s courage.

As the car rolls away, I linger until it disappears around the corner before heading for the beach. Excitement quickly turns my walking into running, since seeing my brothers again can’t come soon enough. I squeeze through the gap in the barbed-wire fence and lift the necklace back over my head, feeling aloha’s warmth spread from head to toes.

And sure enough, there they are, still hard at work on their sand castle with Auntie Oli. I ask for a turn, and Alex hands me his cup with a grin. Packing it full of cool, wet sand, I wonder aloud how tall we might stack this tower, ten cups, maybe twelve? Alex guesses seventeen, and Aidan tops him with a gazillion million, which makes me laugh.

Auntie Oli chuckles and retreats to her towel, sensing what’s coming next. I settle in to play with my brothers for a good while, because that’s my job, and today I finally grasp what that’s worth.