Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

I squeeze my eyelids shut for a moment, then open them and force my gaze to steady on Lily’s mom. My fingers find my shell necklace, and I remind myself I can leave the moment things feel like too much. Nanea checks in gently, asking if I need water. I steady my breathing and assure her I’m okay.

She must not buy my answer, since she scoots even nearer. In a hushed voice, she confesses the war frightens her, too, especially now that her brother David has enlisted in the army. She explains that staying busy with a project keeps her mind off missing him. Her honesty feels like a secret handed to me, so I trade one back. Dad is overseas, and missing him is almost more than I can bear. Her smile that follows is soft, sad, and understanding.

Mrs. Suda, Lily’s mother, claps for everyone’s attention, then introduces the Red Cross visitor as Mrs. Carroll and thanks the group ahead of time for pitching in. Mrs. Carroll challenges us to guess the total number of bandages Hawaii’s Red Cross chapter has rolled this year. Girls throw out guesses left and right, and the real figure makes my jaw practically hit the floor. It’s a million and a half, all rolled in the last six months. Nanea gasps audibly, and Lily shoots me a look of pure shock.

Mrs. Carroll points out that none of that would be possible without girls willing to pitch in like us. We scrub our hands in a basin and pin our hair out of the way, and Mrs. Carroll demonstrates how to wind the long cloth strips into firm, uniform rolls.

It seems some of the girls have done this before, but not me. My rolls keep coming out lopsided, forcing me to pull them apart and try again more than once. Nanea builds an impressive stack in no time, and I ask if she has practiced this before. She says her mother taught her, since first aid is a class her mom regularly teaches. Then she asks me if my mom pitches in with the Red Cross, too.

I shake my head, admitting Mom serves in the military, but I don’t know the details of what she does since it’s all very hush-hush. Nanea’s mouth falls open, and she asks if Mom is a WARD. I’ve never heard the term, so Lily tells me it stands for Women’s Air Raid Defense. Apparently her brother, Gene, told her about it. WARDs handle secretive army assignments that keep the island safe.

Nanea observes that many women are stepping into important roles now that so many men have gone to fight. Her papa has told her women are even working at the shipyard as mechanics and welders. Lily agrees this is admirable, and Nanea nods, glancing my way to say Mom must be really brave.

My mom isn’t a WARD. But I don’t bother to correct Nanea and Lily right now. Although, the thought of Mom’s job being really important and brave stays with me as I grab another strip of cloth. Normally I gripe about her work keeping her away from me and my brothers. This time, though, real pride settles in instead.

While straightening my bandage’s edges, I catch a flicker of motion. A small silver ball bounces across the floor, and a little boy darts after it. My heart jumps. Could that be Alex or Aidan? Startled, I drop the bandage and scramble backward.

But before I can get a good look at the boy, Lily calls out the name Tommy. She scolds him, catching him mid-chase. She reminds him his job is gathering tinfoil into rolls, not turning it into a toy. His face gives him away completely. When I ask if he is her little brother, she rolls her eyes and wants to know how I guessed. I explain I’ve my own pair at home. Twins.

Nanea giggles at the idea of double trouble but insists we are the lucky ones. She is the baby of her family. She scrunches up her nose. I tell her I’d prefer a big brother over my younger brothers any day. But then her expression darkens, and I remember that her brother, David, is serving overseas. Worried I’ve brought up something painful, I quickly add that little brothers cause headaches, too. Lily just nods, understanding what I mean.

After a moment of silence, I turn my attention back to Tommy. He’s been staying busy winding another scrap around his growing silver ball. Nanea says the foil comes from gum wrappers collected for the war effort, since factories melt it into bullets. Lily adds it also keeps her brother out of mischief. Apparently, Tommy has announced plans to build the biggest ball in the whole world. Hearing this makes me laugh, since it sounds like something Aidan would say.

Tommy flicks his ball again, and it vanishes under a cardboard box. I slip away to search for it with him, and his face brightens when I hand it back. I tell him it’s quite an impressive ball, clearly the product of hard work. Puffing out his chest, he declares, “I’m helping with the war.” I assure him he is doing an excellent job.

Once the bandage rolling wraps up, I feel proud of my finished pile. It can’t compete with Lily’s or Nanea’s in size, but it should still help plenty of soldiers. And all that rolling has worked up an appetite, so the moment Mrs. Suda announces snack time, my stomach growls enthusiastically. Beside the wrapped cookies for the giveaway, sit plates of treats needing no unwrapping. Nanea introduces me to each: Portuguese malasadas resembling doughnuts minus the hole, spiced and dried Chinese crack seed, and warm Hawaiian guava bread. The guava bread is the first thing I reach for, since it’s familiar and I love guava bread.

Next, Lily offers me a mochi, and I pause before taking it. New foods normally make me anxious, but Mom always encourages an open mind. Biting into the smooth, round Japanese rice cake, the chewy texture reminds me of sinking my teeth into a marshmallow. A second bite convinces me completely. “I like it!” I announce, and Nanea grins, reaching for a mochi of her own.

Halfway through my second mochi, Nanea shifts the talk to planning the club’s next project. Judy, one of the other girls, pitches babysitting again, the same setup as before where moms attend first-aid classes while their kids are watched by the Honolulu Helpers. Nanea mentions her mother has another class tomorrow, and that a few girls missed their chance to help last time. Something tells me she might mean me, though I decide it’s simply her being kind.

A different girl proposes a book drive instead, going door-to-door to gather books and magazines for injured soldiers. Leaning toward Nanea, Lily murmurs the idea sounds a lot like the bottle drive they already held for the Red Cross. Nanea brushes it aside, since the girl who suggested it joined the club too recently to know that.

Still unconvinced, Lily turns to me for an opinion. I point out that I don’t technically belong to their club. Nanea waves that away, certain I could pitch in regardless, and wants to know which sounds more appealing.

Weighing the two, I think of how much I adore reading, with my half-finished Nancy Drew novel abandoned on my beach towel. Still, going door-to-door asking strangers to donate is territory I’ve never explored. Babysitting, on the other hand, is familiar ground, though I know how tiring it can be.

When Mrs. Suda has everyone shut their eyes and raise a hand for their pick, I settle on an answer almost instantly.