Hello, Beautiful

Hello, Beautiful

From Chicken Soup for the Military Wife's Soul

Hello, Beautiful

Taking joy in life is a woman’s best cosmetic.

Rosalind Russell

I was at the kitchen table, barely aware of the breakfast waiting in front of me. The untouched eggs were cold. I stared out the window at the dismal December day.

My husband was almost halfway through his third tour in Vietnam, and my near future would include the delivery of our fourth baby and the challenge of caring for an infant while trying to keep up with my other kids. Jimmy, Mike and Tracy were very active children between the ages of six and ten, and it was my job to keep their minds occupied so that the year without their dad would go faster.

I missed my husband, I was tired, and the weight of my bulging belly was pulling on my back. My depression felt justified. The forty extra pounds on my normally thin body made me feel fat and ugly. With my coping skills depleted, I was as low as I had ever let myself get. I just couldn’t seem to shake the blues.

My thoughts were interrupted by someone at the front door. After the usual heart pounding that all military wives experience when their husband is in a war zone and the doorbell rings, I opened the door to find a florist standing there with a big box of flowers in his arms.

I thought the delivery was an error since we have no special occasions in December, but my name was on the box. I opened the card and smiled broadly while the pent-up tears streamed down my face. Since that morning, any time I feel sad, I draw on the joy I felt as I stood in the middle of our living room holding those flowers. There were only two words on the card, but they were the ones I most needed: “Hello, beautiful!”

Jane Garvey

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