What matters to you the most? For me, at least, at age ten, I found something that mattered so much that I was injured by it. Okay, it’s not that serious, but it did leave a scar plastered on my forehead for the next five years. It took place in New Zealand, at the Wellington airport, on their blazing carpet floor. 

My mom and I ambled off the plane and towards the exit of the gate. We needed to find the other half of the family, but the only thing on my mind was food. The sensation of each crunch and the smell engulfing me, swallowing me whole. My eyes spun with hunger as I noticed something to the right. A familiar, red, flashing sign. Rubbing my eyes with the back of dried hands, I glanced again. I couldn’t believe it. 

 "Korean fried food!" My mom jumped at the sudden noise. "Can we go? Please?"   

 "We just had some in the Philippines, though," she reasoned with me. Jutting my lower lip, I begged, 

 "But it’s my favorite. Pretty please?" My two hands were clasped together, and I gave her my sweetest smile. The thundering rumble from my stomach broke the silence as she finally gave in.  

"Alright, fine." I sprung with joy and waltzed around the airport. Together, we walked past the windows of pretty stores, looking at the unique and abstract sculptures and statues; even the commercials were creative. A huge structure of Gandalf sat on an eagle strung from the glass ceiling, and the weird fashion show "WOW" had its commercial featuring a remake of its most famous dresses in the middle. The chairs, too, looked like galactic space monsters, as if they weren’t made for sitting. At last, we arrived at my favorite Korean stand and ordered our usual meal of two bowls of glistening Korean fried chicken, kimchi, the softest tofu, and tteokbokki. 

"Thank you," the kind woman spoke softly, handing me the treasure. 

"No, thank you!" I beamed, handing everything but the two precious bowls to my mom. "Oh right! don’t we need to find Dad and Angel?" I realized. Pivoting around to face her, I met no response. I looked into the distance and saw what looked like some sales lady reeling her deeper and deeper into a unique, bright magnet store. She was never going to get out of a shop like that, so I just searched for the family on my own. Adjusting my heavy backpack, I looked around every nook and cranny, peeking through various sculptures and strange seats. I was just about to quit until I found an almost hidden staircase. I skipped down a few steps and peered around the wall. Scanning the area packed with people, I saw the backs of a short girl glued to her phone and a tall man dressed in all black. Jackpot.   

As I inched closer, a brilliant idea flashed across my mind. I’ll scare them. Slightly crouched, I picked up my pace and started swerving past everyone. The air blowing against my face felt cool, and the slight jog awakened me. The suspense made me feel alive, until it stopped, I stopped. The people around me slowly got taller as I shrank to the floor. My two feet were off the ground, and I could feel the weight of my bag tumble, pulling me forward. The burning sensation of the airport’s carpet stung across my body, and I could hear the silence erupt from around me. 

"Freddie!" a woman called out from behind. I examined my arms and legs, which were filled with slight burns. "Are you okay?" the same voice asked. Looking up, I saw my mom’s anxious face. Her eyes lowered from mine and stayed staring at my hands. I too glanced at them to see that they were completely free of burns. In fact, they were tightly gripped around what mattered most—my chicken. She let out a small laugh and helped me up. We then continued to walk shamefully towards my dad and sister as my mom giggled, explaining all that she saw. 

"And then, boom! Right on the floor," She mimed it with her hands. My sister was laughing hysterically, which made me laugh a bit too. But the expression on my dad’s face contrasted. He wasn't laughing with us; he was confused. With a raised bushy eyebrow, he asked, 

"So, if you didn’t use your hands, how’d you break your fall?" My mom stopped giggling as he spoke. Grabbing my head and brushing my hair out the way, she revealed a red oval-shaped burn scarred on my forehead. 

"Ay, sus mio!" she gasped. After looking close at my head, my dad pulled out a huge tub of Vaseline and smeared it all over. 

"There," he said. I could feel my forehead sting as the Vaseline seeped deeper into my head, but it was all worth it. Best of all, they got me ice cream to make up for the pain.  

Looking back, I’d probably still think that Korean fried chicken was worth it in the end. Every bite of it at that dinner table tasted better knowing I fought for it. The mark was like a battle scar, an honor, and a badge that I wore for the next five years. But now that it’s gone, it’s transformed into a little fun memory I'll always have a good laugh looking back on.