I’ve said it before, but it truly bears repeating: finding someone who loves you for who you are – and who, year after year, stays even as the patina of age becomes more visible – is something worth honoring on Valentine’s Day.

It’s easy to talk about love as butterflies or grand gestures. But the kind of love Charlotte and I have shared for nearly 30 years – we met in the fall of 1996 – is something rarer: patience, humor, creativity, and the ability to look past flaws without diminishing the good.

The willingness to listen when I go on and on. To stay when I’m stubborn, sharp-edged, sensitive, or slightly ridiculous. To still want to share the everyday routines, the adventures, and the small details that make up a life.

How lucky I’ve been – and still am.

Charlotte chooses me, again and again, with open eyes and a generous heart.

My Valentine. Every day. All year long.

The above photo was taken earlier today.

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