My mother planted a lemon tree in our tiny backyard when I was eight. It grew crooked, produced only a few terrible lemons each year, and I always thought it was pointless. While I wanted it removed, my mother cared for it every spring and reminded me, “Not everything has to be perfect to be worth keeping.”

When my mother suddenly passed away from a heart attack at 34, I inherited the apartment. One of my first plans was to cut down the old lemon tree, and I even scheduled its removal.

The night before it was supposed to be removed, I went outside for one last look. There, hidden low on the trunk, I found words my mother had carved years ago and that the tree had nearly grown over: “For my daughter. Grow however you need to.”

I immediately canceled the removal. Today, the tree is still crooked and still gives only six bitter lemons a year. Every spring, I use them to make lemonade and remember my mother’s lesson. When my children complain, I tell them, “Not everything has to be perfect to be worth keeping,” and their eye-rolls remind me that the lesson is living on.