For many, hearing the word "family" brings other words to mind; mom, dad, brothers, sisters, love and birth. But what if you were flown into your mother and father's arms not by a stork but by a Boeing 747? My siblings and I were all adopted across the Pacific from the countries India and South Korea. We came from foster mothers and lonely orphanages to parents and a little home in Illinois, some of us healthy and some with life-inhibiting special needs ranging from neurofibromatosis to spina bifida. For the past two years I have been returning home from my absence at school to turn my camera inward on my siblings and parents, swapping the roles traditionally held by the heads of the household. As a son I am interested in documenting our lives from the significant, such as first birth, to the banality of my brother after his shower. For at one time we might have all been strangers, but with time, love and perseverance we are fortunate to call ourselves a family as one.