Due to Covid, they had closed the cabana.
That proved embarrassing for young Hanna.
And it felt rather strange.
But, with no place to change,
She wore nothing, not even a bandana.

With Grandma deathly afraid of Covid, most of the house, including the bathroom, is off-limits for me and Bud. “Just go in the ocean,” Dad told us. I would rather die. Bud thinks it’s a lark. We have the outdoor shower, but I dare use it only when Bud’s not around, else he peeks down from his room above—I know he does. And then he probably—well, I can picture it after I caught him that time, but I think he meant for me to catch him.

Today Bud’s home, so I head down to the beach, all of fifty yards, wrapped in my big towel. Nobody about—there’s hardly ever anyone this far up the shore—so I drop the towel on the beach chair and scurry into the waves. It’s shallow a long way out, so I have to wade a long way before I can go. I turn my back on the house. I’d just as soon not know if Bud’s spying.

Back at the chair it takes me a moment to realize something’s wrong.

My towel—it’s not there. And then I see, disappearing over the dune, Bud, waving my towel, the creep. Now what am I going to do? Make a run for the house would be the wisest course of action, but before I follow through with that plan, Rod comes jogging along, and for a moment, more than a moment, I freeze. He’s still fifty yards off, so I might have time to do something, but what? Charge back into the sea? Hotfoot it for home? Bury myself in the sand?

I don’t do anything but stand there, my soggy headband in my hand, and at the last second I get the idea that I could wear it, the headband. Quickly I step into it. Pull it up. But it twists, snags—and what would it cover anyway?

And Rod is there, smiling big. “Hey Hanna,” he says. “Need a hand?”

“No thanks,” I mean to say, but nothing comes out of my mouth, and Rod is kneeling before me, pulling my headband down down down and off, and then I’m in his arms, and he’s whirling me around, and we spill to the sand, and roll over and over together, and his mouth is on mine, and his legs are between mine, everything I am is his.

Afterwards he helps me rinse the sandy headband in the sea.

-Poem bye Ashley
-Story and Illustrations by Mat