She had an old, brown map of the world, framed and hanging over her TV. Stickpins with colored heads marked where she’d been and how many times. Lying on a twin bed in her nursing home room, she propped a leg over the other knee in the air; her memory as sharp as her body was nimble. She knew what she had paid for a Coke on an Alaskan cruise in the ‘60s, and why she returned to Australia twice. (Koalas.) Thirty years after her death, the search for that map—with its pins and memories—begins.