My family had to leave our homes that had been filled with joy and music. The Russian army turned our house into its headquarters. My father, Yoon Doo-Sun, fled to avoid conscription and was thrown into prison when he arrived in Seoul. My mother, Song Kyung-Shyn, left to find him. Later, during cold winter nights, I was carried on a stranger’s back while my older siblings walked hundreds of miles from Pyongyang to Seoul. Farmers fed us the most wonderful noodles we have ever tasted.