The white cardboard, rectangular package was, as always, wrapped with an excessive amount of packing tape, and was thus readily identifiable as a package sent to me by my mother. She is known for her elaborate use of materials to “ensure the safe passage” of whatever it is she is sending my way. I chided her about this once, that I could always tell her packages by the way they were wrapped. She quickly reminded me that the last Christmas package I had sent her way suffered an insurmountable blow during its travel, resulting in a lovely ceramic angel with broken wings. Enough said. How is it that Moms can always find a way to say “I told you so” without actually uttering those specific words? My Mom lives in Tucson, Arizona, where she moved many years ago to escape the cold Chicago winters. She has loved it there; the mountains, the warmth, the free-spirited nature of its residents. One of the first things she did when she bought her home was to plant a lemon tree, which was no easy task. The rock and dry dirt made planting a chore, and it had to be carefully irrigated for many years before its root system grabbed hold. But grab hold it did, and “Lizzie the Lemon Tree” has become one of the more productive members of our family. She lives on the side of a sloping hill in the back yard, and amidst thick, sharp thorns, produces deliciously perfect lemons that are juicy, aromatic, and flavorful. She is a Lisbon Lemon tree. My mom, myself, and my two children have shared the fruit of that tree for decades. There have been times when three generations have been out picking the fruit off the branches, a coordinated effort with the youngest most agile on the ladder, and the others down below catching the fruit as it was tossed down. My mom taught me to cook, and I have taught my children, and we now have several very excellent cooks in our family. There are many dishes in which those lemons are used, and we have friends and neighbors that also look forward to receiving a few of Lizzie’s lemons when they are available. Now, sadly, my mom will be relocating into an assisted living facility, and soon her home will be up for sale. Yesterday I received what may very well be my last box full of Lizzie’s lemons, and the site of it made my just a wee bit teary eyed as I pondered the cycles of life and the special bonds of family love. Entering February, soon we will be bombarded with the theme of “LOVE” as diamond merchants, chocolatiers, florists, and others encourage us to express our innermost feelings utilizing their wares, and the medical profession and cosmetic dermatology is no different. The packaging of products and specials using the Valentine’s Day theme is age old. But I would like to take a moment just to speak about something that I see every day as a practicing dermatologist: REAL LOVE. I see it in the faces of parents bringing in their children, concerned about a rash or a mole. When a husband comes in for an exam and he is covered in ink circles surrounding things “my wife wants you to check”. When husbands and wives come in together for their appointments to be sure one partner is listening and taking notes while the other gets examined. When they come in separately and pull me aside to whisper, “He won’t want you to look at this, but will you please check…” When couples that have been together come in to share news about a difficult diagnosis or illness, to talk about the challenges of dealing with Parkinson’s or a stroke, the scenarios are numerous. And sadly, when one comes in but the other doesn’t, and it is a visit where we both cry and hold on to one another because I will miss them too. Sure, I can plump up your lips and ease your wrinkles, and don’t get me wrong, I LOVE doing that. I LOVE empowering people to be their most confident, to feel good about how they look, and mostly to feel good about the health of their skin. But what truly gets me through every day is the love that all of you share with me. As I open my last box of lemons, and share them with my family and friends, I will think of all the love I have been blessed with in my life. And I just might plant a few of these seeds, hoping Lizzie and her LOVE will not be forgotten.