This is one of the first photos I remember taking myself. Guess my style hasn’t changed much. I was 8, and we were at Nimitz beach. One of mom’s first shakas, and Russell had no front teeth. Lola fell in the shore break and couldn’t stop laughing as she fought the pull of surf and tried to crawl back up the beach. Mom went over to help her and found herself in the same situation. My family. They are people of lakes and rivers, not beaches. Lola. I miss her, all the time. I’ve read and am now watching Pachinko, reflecting on my own family’s diaspora. My heart aches knowing the sacrifices my family has made in order to be in America. The things they missed out on, everyone apart from one another. Long distance calls to the PI in the 90s were few and far between, usually reserved for super special occasions. Things weren’t like how they are now… but are we more connected? Or not?