In March 1998, in a small clinic in Seoul, South Korea, a baby was born. Exactly five months later in August, that baby was on an airplane which landed at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York City. That baby was me. This is the headband that was given to me by my foster mother who cared for me for the first five months of my life. The day that I made my 6,863-mile journey to the United States, I wore this headband and about five layers of clothes (as my mom reports). They were the only items that traveled with me on the plane ride. I cannot remember the day, of course, but I know that I left behind a life that would have been so much different than the one I live today. It would have been a life with different people, different places, and different experiences. My opportunity to be adopted gave me the chance to have my own family to love, a real home, let alone, a life in America. While the headband is a symbol of when my American life started, it is also a reminder of my life in Korea. Today, my mom tells me that she likes the headband because it shows that people cared about me in Korea, even though I wasn’t their child. My foster mother cared enough to dress me up so I looked nice when I was brought to my family. That Saturday in August when I arrived in New York, I was greeted with hugs by my new parents, my grandma, and my uncle, while they were greeted with a little baby who couldn’t stop smiling and whose nearly hairless head was covered by a white headband.