People ask all the time about how we came to this island.

It started as a joke.

“Hey, let’s move to Hawaii!”

My oldest son Brad rolled his eyes and stretched “mo-om” out into a three syllable word. Mr. Sensible, he knew where home was, and he knew without a doubt that I was a little nuts. We had vacationed in Hawaii and arrived home with hearts warmed by the tropical sun and aloha spirit. We didn’t want to leave, but, well, that’s what you do on a vacation. And so our yearning for the islands became a running joke.

“It’s freezing!” Brad complained when the mercury dipped to 14 degrees.

“We could move to Hawaii,” I replied.

Ever the one to join the fun, Evan chimed in, “Yeah, let’s move to Hawaii!”

“No thanks,” said Brad.

When things went wrong, it was a good diversion. Sitting in traffic? “Hey, let’s move to Hawaii!” Spilled milk? “I don’t think milk spills in Hawaii!” Every time, the joke got a thumbs-up from Evan and an eye roll from Brad. Every time. Until the day it didn’t.

I can’t recall what prompted the joke, but I very distinctly remember Brad’s matter of fact reply: “Okay. Let’s move to Hawaii.” I also remember the sharp silence. When he uttered those words, it stopped being a joke. He had called our bluff. Evan blinked. I glanced from one child to the other.

Evan asked, “So, are we moving?”

I snorted. One doesn’t simply pack up a family and move to Hawaii. It’s just not feasible. And yet, this conversation happened about the same time that my husband heard of a potential job opening on the Big Island. How could we not at least consider it?

Are you serious? we asked Brad. And what about Evan? All this time he’d been gamely going along with the joke, but actually moving to an island in the Pacific is a far cry from a little family chuckle. Mealtime conversation revolved around the perils and possibilities of living the island life.

“What about our toys?” asked Evan. “I’ll miss my friends, a lot.”

“We could snorkel every day,” said Brad.

I fell in love with the islands more than twenty years ago. The thought of living there, even temporarily, was pretty enticing. But, we had a home to think about. Animals. Family. Furniture. Stuff. Baggage. Life.

But, the educator in me wondered at the opportunity! A chance to live on one of the newest pieces of earth? To live in a place populated by so many different cultures? To have the opportunity to gain first hand knowledge of the ocean and its creatures? To learn a new language? How in the world could I say no?

Nine months later, we were on a plane headed for Kona. We had with us eight suitcases (one filled exclusively with Legos) and nothing else. Our furniture was in storage, our home was rented out, and on the other end of this plane ride we’d become tenants ourselves.