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         There was once a girl named Parvairity. There was no such name anywhere on the island of Atiu, a small but bustling island in the Pacific Ocean. How she came to get such an uncommon name, well, that is a story within itself. Right now, I shall tell you a different tale, one of chance, luck, and that something in each one of us that urges us to find the rest of our life, and live out our destiny to the fullest. Yet, you are probably asking, “But what sort of a story is this?” Dear Reader, this is only the beginning of the story of a young woman’s quest to find the people who were missing from her life.
         Parvairity was very short, and had light skin and flaxen hair. She always wondered why she was so different in appearance from the rest of her tribe. All of the people that she knew had tan skin and black hair. Even her Mama had black hair to her waist, tan skin, and a white, sparkling smile. She was the most beautiful woman that Parvairity had ever seen.
         “Parvairity,” her mother’s shrill voice penetrated the close, muggy air. “Come and fill the water bucket,” she called. Parvairity sighed. The open sea behind the lagoon seemed to beckon her, calling, “Parvairity, come away! Come and find adventure and your destiny beyond the horizon!” “Oh, will my life ever change?” she thought with regret.
          One day, sitting beside her mother, she asked the question that would change her fate. “Mama,” she asked, “Am I truly part of this tribe?”
          Her mother looked thoughtful and stared out at the horizon. She looked weary and tired. “No,” she sighed, “You are not.”

          Parvairity’s life changed drastically at that minute. There was no more doubt, no more waiting or questions. She knew now. Yet, at the same time, one more question loomed so big that it left all the small details behind. WHO are my parents?
          Parvairity had grown to be a young woman of 14 years. Although the tribe loved her like their own, she still felt a feeling of inadequacy and foreignism. The question still loomed in her mind, WHO ARE MY PARENTS?
          The question bugged her for three more years until she made the decision. She finally faced the fact that was in front of her: I am cared for here, but I want to find my biological family. I must find my parents.
She had befriended some local missionaries. They taught her English, computer skills, grammar, and math. Their tutoring made it possible for her to go to America. The thought of how much she would need these skills in the search for her biological parents gave her inspiration to continue.
          At eighteen years of age, Parvairity decided that she would find her parents, even if the results were heartbreaking. She wanted more information, if attainable, before she began the quest. She approached her mother while she was at the shore, washing her other dress.
          “M- M- Mama,” she stammered nervously, “I have a question. Could you tell me about how I came to live with you and the tribe?”
          Mama stared out at the crashing waves, pondering the best way to tell the story. Then, she began.
“It was sixteen years ago tomorrow that you floated ashore on a life raft alone. There was a note that read,

Dear Reader, please keep this baby safe. Our ship
is going down and there is little hope for survival.
We are not sure of her name, as she was in our care
only a short while. She was being taken to America
from England, and would live with her grandparents,
Patricia and Dan Grahm, until the arrival of her parents
the following month. Please care for her and love her as your own.
Sincerely,
Joanne Smith

         You told us in your own baby language that your name was Parvairity. We all thought that you were the cutest thing. We knew nothing else, yet we did love you as our own. You are very special to us. We hope that you will never leave, but it is not our place to detain you.” Her mother fell silent and looked at the waves.
         “Mama,” she said softly, not wanting to interrupt her mother’s reverie but knowing that the next few sentences were very important, “I am going to find my real parents. I love you, Mama.”

          Two weeks later, the tribe stood solemnly watching the ship take their dear Parvairity away. Every one of them loved her, right down to the youngest infant. Every one of them knew that they may never see her again.
          As for Parvairity, she was ecstatic. She would, if all was successful, find her true birth parents. There was also doubt in her heart, nonetheless, that her mission would be unsuccessful. Yet, as she was just about to discover, you must strive to reach your dreams.
          Parvairity had decided to go to America to track down her grandparents. She had attained a set of American clothes from the missionaries. If they were still alive, she could acquire valuable information from her grandparents, that is, if they knew anything about her parents. Also, there was a chance that one or both of her grandparents had died. As she stepped off the dock in New York City, she thought, “What am I doing? Am I crazy?”
          The answer was no. She was not because she was reasonably close to her destination. Also, wouldn’t you go all out to find your family?
           She spotted a man who looked friendly and approached him. “Please, sir, could you tell me how to get to the nearest library?”
           “It is on a little side street right off Main Street.”
           “Thank you, sir,” she said, and set off for the library. Walking was a little hard since she had been on a ship for six weeks straight, but somehow she managed to stumble up the regal-looking stone steps.

            The moment that she stepped into the building, she was struck with awe. It was the epitome of elegance and beauty. Everything was so extravagant. In reality, it was just your average library, but to Parvairity, it was amazing. Having grown up on the rather primitive island of Atiu, she had no idea that this was average to the American people.
            “Please, may I help you?” a young, girlish voice startled her out of her awestruck reverie.
            “Oh, um, may I use a computer?” Parvairity asked, hesitating a little. The computer skills and English she had learned at the missionary school on the island were about to come in very handy. She found it ironic that a librarian was so animated and had so much to say. The girl introduced herself as Sandra.
             “You sure can, and by the way, what’s your name?” Her girlish smile and manner of speech made Parvairity much at ease. She began to tell her newfound friend about her search for her family. When she had finished her tale, the girl asked if she could be of assistance.
           “Oh, certainly, I would love to have company, especially someone as happy as you!” Parvairity exclaimed eagerly. “Do you know of a way we could locate my grandparents using the Internet?” she asked hopefully. “I vaguely remember their names.”
             An hour later, Parvairity and Sandra, the librarian, had found an address that was hopefully the one for which they were searching. Sandra had gotten leave to accompany her friend, as she knew the streets of the city. Parvairity was bubbling over with excitement and nervousness.
           “You know, there are a lot of big ifs,” Sandra reminded the overly excited Parvairity. The IF word brought her back down to earth with a thump. What if they didn’t accept her? What if they didn’t believe her? What if they didn’t even live there? She became silent and sober.
             “Hey, I didn’t say that you couldn’t be happy!” Sandra laughed. “Lighten up. We’ll find them eventually.”

            They approached a small cottage type house and knocked on the door. Two teen girls and a fifty year old man came to the door. “Can I help you?” the man who was obviously the father, asked.
             “Um, we are looking for Patricia Grahm. Does she live here?”
             “No,” the girls sneered at her and then turned to each other whispering. One of them giggled.
             “Oh, be quiet, Ashley and Kate,” the man said. Turning his attention back to the visitors, he said, “The name sounds familiar. Maybe we could check the phonebook.” He disappeared into the house, and then came back with a musty book. “This is seven years old, though. Hmm… in this book, the Grahm family lived here. Sorry. Check the library phonebook. They update it often.” The door closed behind them. A light rain began to fall.
              “Back to the drawing board...” Sandra sang out as she swung the minivan out of the driveway. Overcome with hopelessness and about to cry, Parvairity looked bleakly out the window. They arrived at the library and ran back inside just as it began to pour.
              They studied all the names under ‘Grahm’ in the phonebook, and the one that fit the best lived about six miles away. The rain was coming down hard, and the head librarian advised that they continue their search the next day. Parvairity was heartbroken, but knew the advice was wise.
Sandra let Parvairity stay with her that night, and they set out in they morning at about ten o’clock. Parvairity was excited, afraid, and anxious all at the same time. She tapped her feet on the floor of the minivan in an attempt to calm herself, but nothing worked.

              “We’re there,” Sandra’s voice rang out as they turned into a driveway. It was an old house, but it looked well kept. As happy as she was, Parvairity felt weak and nervous. After primping her hair, the pair knocked softly on the door. An elderly woman opened the door.
               “Hello, girls,” she said cheerily with an English accent. “How can I be of help?”
               “Are you Sara Grahm?” Parvairity asked. At the woman’s nod, Parvairity went on, “Do you have a minute? We have a few questions for you.”
               The woman looked wary, but let them in.
               “My name is Parvairity. Does that name sound at all familiar? And this is my friend Sandra.”
               “Parvairity was my granddaughter’s name. She drowned eighteen years ago on a ship coming here.” She sobbed softly, and then dried her tears at the girl’s next words.
                “She didn’t. Want to know how I know? I am she.”
                The woman stared in disbelief. Then she burst into tears. “Patricia, Dan, David, John, Kasha, come here!”
                 When the four were in the room, the woman said, “Does this girl look familiar? You guys, this is Parvairity, our sweet baby girl.”
                One of the four rushed over to her, took her hand, and stared at her second finger. When Parvairity was born, she had a bright red birthmark on her finger. It had faded some, but it was still noticeable.“She has the birthmark! It’s her!” The woman, who was apparently Kasha or Patricia, hugged her and sobbed. All of them piled around her in a big group hug.
                Confused, Parvairity asked, “Could you tell me your names?”
               “Excuse us,” the elderly woman answered. “I am the older Patricia. This is your mother, the younger Patricia, the one who took your hand. This is Dan, my husband, your grandfather. This is David, your father, and Kasha and John are your older siblings.” She had motioned to each one in turn, and they all rushed in and hugged her. She noticed that her older brother was the one who had directed her to the library.
                 “How did you get here to us?” my father asked. They all settled down on the couch to listen.
Parvairity began, “Well, it’s a long story…”

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