« What’s it like there? »
Mom stood at the counter buttering toast.
Her knife stopped halfway across the bread.
Dad noticed.
« So, » he said, putting the photograph down, « how’s work? »
That was Hawaii in our family.
One minute it existed.
The next, somebody changed the subject.
That was Hawaii in our family.
Dad had been born there and left at twenty. He moved to Oregon for work, met Mom, married her, and never went back.