Sand Dollar Island

By Whitney Heatherington

Every time I was on Uncle Kenny’s boat

I smiled and giggled as a blonde ringlet girl.

Watching my best friend and

cousin crinkle her nose

when salt water flung into her eyes

and hoping someday Uncle

would let me drive.

When we arrived to Sand Dollar Island

I treasured every moment when the sand

was between my toes and the warmth

of the sun was on my skin,

while I stared at the ocean hoping

to spot a dolphin,

collecting seashells all afternoon.

And when it was time to leave

we loaded up the boat,

and slept the whole way

home. The humming

of the motor

put me right to sleep.