Waverly Jong
I was six when my mother taught me the art of invisible strength. It was a strategy for winning arguments, respect from others, aually, though her of us k at the time, chess games.
"Bite back your tongue," scolded my mother when I cried loudly, yanking her hand toward the store that sold bags of salted plums. At home, she said, "Wise guy, he not go against wind. In ese we say, e from South, blow with wind—poom!—North will follow. Stro wind ot be seen."
The week I bit back my tongue as we ehe store with the forbidden dies. When my mother finished her shopping, she quietly plucked a small bag of plums from the rad put it on the ter with the rest of the items.
My mother imparted her daily truths so she could help my older brothers and me rise above our circumstances. We lived in San Franciscos atown. Like most of the other ese children who played in the back alleys of restaurants and curio shops, I didnt think we were poor. My bowl was alwa……（内容加载失败！）
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