My mother has a thing. If anyone is kind to her, she feels indebted, and she has to pay them back, no matter what.One winter, old Mr. Wang from downstairs carried a crate of fruit up the stairs for her. That same day she went to the supermarket and came home with a haul of groceries to give him. He said it wasn't necessary. She said it was. She couldn't live with herself otherwise.At church, everyone knows her as the warmhearted one. Sunday service every week, first in line at the Christmas drive, first on the scene when a neighbor needs help.She says God's eyes are always on her. She can't let her conscience slip.Sometimes, after giving away something of mine, she'd say, "Mia, you have to learn to let go. Giving is more blessed than receiving." She genuinely believed that making me lose things was building up my virtue with God.After she remarried, she went above and beyond for Serena. My stepfather is a quiet, decent man who barely speaks. Serena moved in with us, and Mom fussed
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