I can barely remember what the fight was about between my mother and me. I was 15 and had spent the day sulking.

Unaware of the feud, my father had arranged for our favorite Chinese restaurant to prepare dinner for us. Despite myself, I savored the entire meal. Still, the tension was apparent.

It came time for the fortune cookies. As I broke mine open, I could not believe what was on that tiny piece of paper. I burst into a mix of laughing and crying, reading my fortune out loud: “Your Mother Is Always Right.”

Marcy Alvo,


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