My mom had peeled and crushed all the garlic for Kimjang—the traditional Korean practice of making kimchi—and was now winnowing the husks away in the breeze. Smiling, she recalled how hard it had been to do this when she was pregnant with me—her belly bumping against the winnow basket. “Now,” she said, “it feels wonderful that the daughter who was once in my womb has grown up to stand beside me and help.” As our laughter mingled with the soft rustle of garlic skins, I couldn’t help but think that this year’s kimchi would taste better than ever.