The day I knew my life would never be the same began very early one crisp, summer morning in Honolulu, Hawaii, just one month shy of my tenth birthday. I can vividly recall this day; the day my life changed forever. That particular summer morning was not like any other; my elder sister and I were awoken much earlier than usual, as the sun began to rise over my beautiful Hawaii. Instead of enjoying summer fun activities, like the beach, or playing volleyball ‘til dark, we were dropped off by my father at the Honolulu International Airport. My father told us it was our responsibility to remain there, curbside, and wait until he returned with the remainder of our belongings. While assigned to safeguard our curbside post, several suitcases and boxes arrived throughout the day, dropped-off by my father containing the only belongings we would be taking with us from our home; belongings such as clothing, photographs, household items, and other possessions my mother deemed absolutely necessary. Meanwhile, my dad and mom completed the moving process, also attending to my other siblings, while my elder sister and I waited at the airport. It was ironic to see all our material possessions consolidated into only a few large suitcases and several boxes; all other material possessions, accumulated over nearly a decade, was donated or discarded, ensuring we would be able to leave on our designated departure flight that night. When my father had a vision or a plan, he executed it with precision; no delays, no hiccups. Everyone got on board and that was that---no questions.
As the day progressed into night, my thoughts continued to race; a combination of confusion and excitement. We were really leaving the oasis of Hawaii, I thought to myself; the only home I had ever known since my family originally migrated from Samoa, when I was too young to remember. As my sister and I waited curbside from sunrise to sunset, the minutes seemed like hours, the hours seemed like days. There were many people dropped off as we waited, dashing to catch their flights to what I imagined were exotic, captivating destinations. As I imagined the excitement of their journeys, I somewhat looked forward to what lay ahead on my own journey, though I really had no concept of what was to be expected. While we waited curbside for hours upon hours until night set in, my father and mother, and other siblings, finally arrived at the airport to join us for our departure flight. Anxiousness and nervousness set in; this would be the first time I could recollect traveling abroad on an airplane, though I had been told our family had traveled often, during my infant and toddler years, back and forth from Samoa to Hawaii; while my father and aunt (who had immigrated previously to Salt Lake City) had persistently worked remotely (he in Samoa and Hawaii and she in Salt Lake City) towards finalizing our immigration process. As the night emerged, it was becoming more and more evidently clear, we were really leaving Hawaii; confusion and excitement must have permeated every cell of my body.
That somber, summer night, as my family and I were assembled at the gate of our departure flight, I recall one of my sweet aunts and her husband; two beautiful Polynesians, came to see us off at the airport. It was very late at this point; the sun had set many hours prior to our final departure call. My family members, who would be boarding our departure flight, also included my younger sister, elder sister, younger brother, elder brother, and my parents. As we awaited our final departure call, I have often wondered if my siblings had the same feelings of intensified apprehension and excitement. A few others also came to see us off at the airport.
Soon, the final boarding call blared over the loud speakers; the long-awaited moment had arrived. My aunt was in tears, my mother was in tears; my tears started to flow too. The reality really hit me then----we were not going on a temporary holiday. As far as I could recollect, we never left Hawaii for any amount of time after our immigration process was finalized. It was apparently clear; we were really leaving Hawaii for good---forever. We were permanently leaving our home. With sadness and uncertainty, we boarded the plane. I can still distinctly remember the strangeness of the entire moment. Aboard the plane, situated like sardines, the movie “Islands in the Stream” with Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers was the feature film that night. I recall we did get a meal; though I don’t remember what was served except I remember seeing the iconic Hawaiian orchid on my plate; a typical island symbol of aloha. I don’t remember too much else after my meal; I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke, it was daylight and we hurriedly exited the aircraft. We had landed in Los Angeles.
Although the flight was probably only five hours, it seemed like an eternity. When we arrived at LAX, after exiting the plane and retrieving our only possessions, we made our way curbside to meet our arrival party; my uncle and one of his daughters, who had made the drive from Arizona. I was elated to see them; especially my cousin. We were the same age. At curbside, after they arrived to meet us, I remember we all packed into a large, blue van, loaded our personal belongings, and set off on our journey to their home, in Arizona. I had no idea where Arizona was nor had no idea of the proximity of the airport to their home. Since my limited exposure to the outside world (outside Hawaii) came from television shows, I felt like a fish out of water. Most destinations on Oahu (the island of Hawaii where I grew up) are within just a few minutes, so I was unaware of the great distance we would be required to travel to reach their home in Arizona. We seemed to drive for what seemed like a million miles through very unfamiliar territory, after leaving Los Angeles. I felt like we would never reach our journey’s end. While on this journey, passing what seemed like acres upon acres of barren nothingness, we must have hit a nail. We ended up stopping to get the tire repaired, at a little pit stop/gas station, in an old western-looking town, that seemed like someplace out of a Duke’s of Hazard show; one of those “if you blink” you might miss it-type towns. I definitely wasn’t in Hawaii anymore!
As far as the eye could see, for miles and miles, signs of life were limited----dead, dry, or drying vegetation; what I thought was desolate in comparison to my beautiful Hawaii. We continued the journey well into the night; mostly in silence as the night progressed and eased into morning. I soon grew tired and fell asleep, awakened by the sound of unfamiliar male voices; the van had also come to a halt and my uncle was conversing with what appeared to be guards. We had arrived at what I came to find out was actually a military installation where they resided; an Army post; completely foreign to me. This is where we would begin our new life----our new journey.
The ensuing years that followed our relocation to Arizona were some of the most difficult years of my life, feeling homesick for the islands I called home, often wishing I were home. I later came to see and appreciate my dad’s vision and understand his desire for us to leave Hawaii. He simply wanted us to have the opportunity to progress, experience new things, and receive better educational opportunities within a safe environment. Though it was initially difficult to comprehend and adjust to my new home, new school, new surroundings, and assimilate into a totally different world, as I knew it, I have come to love Arizona and recognize the unique beauty of the desert and consider it my secondary home; though I still am and will always consider myself, an island girl at heart---once an island girl, always an island girl!
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