“Mom, every time I look in the mirror, I see something different. Sometimes it’s good, and I feel good about myself. But, sometimes it’s not.”

It was well after dinner, and my nine-year-old daughter was perched on the kitchen counter, nibbling on apple slices while I made tea. Her eyes were fixed on her reflection in the mirror across the room, her expression critical.

I leaned forward. “Let me share something with …

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“You do not have to be good.”

I’ve long considered having these classic, profound opening words of Mary Oliver’s most famous poem tattooed on my body somewhere. Since I quit clinical medicine a month ago, I’m at that stage where I’m researching tattoo parlors.

It was just this morning, a late October Saturday morning, that I took my kids and the dog hiking in the woods in the rain. …

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