When I snapped back to reality, my mother, Karen Simmons, was already almost out the door, and I hurriedly ducked into the kitchen.Once the sound of her footsteps had faded, I looked down at the basket in my hands. The wild greens I'd just picked on the hills had all spilled out while I was running home.My sister, Emily Simmons, had asked me to pick them that morning for lunch.In the past, I would have hurried back up the mountain to pick more, but today, my legs simply wouldn't move.She wasn't the only daughter they had. I was their daughter, too.But ever since I accepted my new mom...Whenever she went to school, I'd cook her meals, tuck them against my chest to keep them warm, and walk five miles to deliver them.Whenever she came home from boarding school with dirty clothes, I'd wash them.Whenever she did her homework, I'd stand beside her and fan away the mosquitoes.Once, I secretly glanced at one of her textbooks, and she called me bad luck and said I'd dirtied th
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