We were at Honolulu Airport to greet my mom’s sister, Marguerite, and her two daughters. It was August 1949. I was two years old.

I’m holding my mother’s hand. Marguerite is in the red lei.

My cousins, Moana and Lani, are in the coconut hats. My sister, Bonnie, is standing between them, looking down.

While we’re in Portland over the next few days, we’re planning lunch with one of Moana’s granddaughters. I’ve never met her, but she recently tracked me down while in search of her own part of our shared family history.