nd which writes them is now old, wrinkled from the sun and labor, but the mind which guides them is wise, wise from years, wise from failures, wise from heartache. I am Asmara, merchant of fine stones.

I am a seller of stones. I travel from city to city. I buy jewels from the diggers in one land and sell them to the buyers in another. I have weathered nights on stormy waters. I have walked days through desert heat. I have dined with kings. I have drunk with paupers. My hands have held the finest rubies and stroked the deepest furs, but I would trade it all for the one jewel I never knew.

It was not for lack of opportunity that I never held it. There was a chance in Madrid when I was young. No, it was not for lack of opportunity. It was for lack of wisdom. The jewel was in my hand, but I exchanged it for an imitation, and now I fear my days will end without my ever knowing the beauty of the precious stone.

I have never known true love. I have known embraces. I have seen beauty, but I have never known love. If only I’d learned to recognize love as I have learned to recognize stones.

My father taught me about stones. He was a jewel cutter. He would seat me at a table before a dozen emeralds. "One is true," he would tell me. "The others are false. Find the true jewel."

I would ponder—studying one after the other. Finally I would choose. I was always wrong.

"The secret, "he would say," is not on the surface of the stone. It is inside the stone. A true jewel has a glow. Deep within the gem there is a flame. The surface can always be polished to shine, but with time the sparkle fades. However, the stone that shines from within will never fade."

With the years, my eyes learned to spot true stones. I am never fooled. The stones I purchase are authentic. The gems I sell are true. I have learned to see the light within.

If only I’d learned the same about love, but I’ve been foolish, dear reader, and I’ve been fooled. I’ve spent my life in places I shouldn’t have been, looking for someone with sparkling eyes, beautiful hair, a dazzling smile, and fancy clothes. I’ve searched for a woman with outer beauty, but no true value, and now I am left with emptiness.

Once I almost found her. Many years ago in Madrid, I met the daughter of a farmer. Her ways were simple. Her love was pure. Her eyes were honest, but her looks were plain. She would have loved me. She would have held me through every season. Within her was a glow of devotion the like of which I’ve never seen since, but I continued looking for someone whose beauty would outshine the rest.

How many times since have I longed for that farm girl’s kind heart, her sweet smile, her faithfulness? If only I’d known that true beauty is found inside, not outside. If only I’d known, how many tears would I have saved? I’d trade in a moment a thousand rare gems for the true heart of one who would have loved me.

Dear reader, heed my warning. Look closely at the stones before you open your purse. True love glows from within and grows stronger with the passage of time.

Heed my caution. Look for the purest gem. Look deep within the heart to find the greatest beauty of all. And when you find that gem, hold onto her and never let her go, for in her you have been granted a treasure worth far more than rubies. Seek beauty and miss love, but seek love and find both.

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