Ah, Valentine’s Day – the holiday of love. Roses, cards, fleeting gestures exchanged between two people on a single day. But love is bigger and more complex than romance.
When I think about love, my mind goes first to my family. I think about deep care and compassion that sustains us over time; about commitment that forms a steady foundation; and responsibility taken seriously, even when it is inconvenient or hard. I think about the immense love that is required to raise children.
Love for children does not rest solely on the shoulders of parents. It is reflected in our policies and budgets, our schools and health care systems, our neighborhoods and public spaces. It shows up not just in words, but in everyday conditions that allow children to feel safe, valued, and hopeful.
On Valentine’s Day, when we pause to reflect on what love really means, we should also ask what it looks like to love ALL children well.
Children are dependent on the world adults create. They do not choose their circumstances, yet they live with the consequences of adult decisions every day. Stable housing, nutritious food, access to health care, safe schools, and caring relationships are not luxuries in childhood; they are the basic ingredients of healthy development.
When these needs are met, children are free to learn, imagine, play, and grow – to just be kids. When they are not, the costs ripple outward – to families, communities, and society as a whole.
Societies that prioritize child well-being are making a long-term investment in their own safety and stability. Children who grow up supported are more likely to become adults who are healthy, engaged adults who contribute to their communities. Those who grow up in constant crises often carry the weight of that instability into adulthood, placing strain on public systems and weakening social trust.
Loving children in this way is not sentimental – it is preventive and pragmatic.
For children, feeling loved means more than affection at home. It means experiencing dignity and inclusion in the wider world: schools where they are seen and supported, communities where they are safe to play, systems that respond when they struggle rather than punish them for it. When children feel they belong, they are more likely to develop empathy for others and a sense of responsibility toward the common good.
Love is also a powerful tool in the work of building a Colorado that is more just and equitable. When we claim to value children but tolerate vast disparities in their well-being, that love becomes conditional. Inequities take root early, shaped by race, income, geography, disability, and immigration status. Choosing to invest in all children, especially those facing the greatest barriers, is how love becomes justice rather than charity.
This all matters deeply for our state. We cannot remain vibrant if large numbers of children grow up feeling invisible or unimportant. Children who experience care and support early are more likely to believe that institutions can work, that participation matters, and that their voices have value. We build a stronger Colorado when we ensure our children are thriving.
Child well-being is not only about the future. Children are not placeholders waiting to become “real” people later; they are living full lives right now, experiencing joy, fear, curiosity, and stress in real time. To care about their well-being is to respect their humanity in the present, not just their potential down the road.
If love were measured not by cards exchanged but by conditions created, child well-being would be one of society’s clearest love letters to itself. It would say: We believe people matter from the beginning. We believe prevention is wiser than repair. We believe that caring for the most vulnerable strengthens everyone.
So, on Valentine’s Day, alongside flowers and affirmations, there is a question worth asking: What does our society’s love look like to a child?
The answer to that question will shape not only childhoods, but the future we all share.
