DEAR LaVETA:
This Valentine's Day, when people see your cinnamon complexion and bottomless eyes, your luxurious hair and velvet skin, they'll assume that I married you because you're beautiful.
In truth, your outward beauty was not nearly enough.
I've known beautiful women whose character made them ugly. I've seen outer beauty consumed by inner demons. I've watched beauty fade under the relentlessness of time.
The beauty I saw in you was much deeper than that. It was a beauty that I knew would never fade.
It was beautiful when I said "I love you" for the first time, and you covered your face with your hands, afraid to believe that what we felt for each other was real. We'd both been hurt before. We'd seen love crumble beneath lies and selfishness. We'd longed for something more, never suspecting that the disappointments of the past were preparation for our future.
And make no mistake. When I saw you - truly saw you - I could no longer see my future without you.
I've known women. I've made mistakes. I've delivered as much pain as I've received. Yet when I told you that my past was less than perfect, you told me through your actions that our future together could be.
You were the quiet confidante who told me that the world should hear the voice I had inside. Your encouragement convinced me that my talent was real. Your determination pushed me to aim for greater heights. Your love made it all seem so achievable.
On days like this that celebrate love, I reflect on the path we've traveled together, and I know that love is much more than the happily-ever-after of storybooks. It's more than soaring peaks and darkened valleys. True love is somewhere in between.
It's in the laughter we share, like the time you bought two pairs of bobos and I immediately bought you Reeboks to assure you that we weren't that broke. It's in the longing we experienced when we were dating, and you went to work at CBS News, and I drove to New York every weekend just to see you. It's in the arguments, like the time I made you so mad you picked up a kitchen tool called a microplane zester, and I swore I was about to be turned into grated black Parmesan.
I never thought the journey we began on that first date, July 5, 1997, would end up here. I would never have imagined when we laughed and sang the Flintstones theme while gazing at the stars at Penn's Landing that our kids would be watching Flintstones reruns 12 years later. I never thought I would find someone who would accept me for who I am. But then I found you.
I know it hasn't always been easy. I know it hasn't always been fun. But through the ups and downs of raising a family, I've always felt like we were raising one another, too. I'm better with you. You're better with me. That's why I no longer believe in falling in love. I now believe with all my being that love should make you rise.
Each time we laugh at each other and ourselves, we do so with love, and we are rising. Each time we resolve a difficult disagreement, we do so with love, and we are rising. Each time we come together to solve a daunting challenge, we do so with love, and we are rising.
Today, as we celebrate Valentine's Day, there are those who no longer believe in the power of love. There are those who've been hurt, those who've been disappointed, those who've given up. To them, I would say that the perfect relationship is a journey, not a destination.
To my wife, the love of my life, I can only say thank you. Everything I've learned about true love, I've learned with you. *
Solomon Jones will appear at the L.A. Banks Twelve Tribes Summit today at 2:15 to moderate a discussion on vampires in literature and culture. National Constitution Center, 525 Arch St. Admission is free.
Solomon Jones' column appears every Saturday. He can be reached at