Army Wives Season 2 Episode 1

Roxy: (opening her front door) Weren't you just here awhile ago?
Pamela: I know. But this time I brought a medical professional.
Denise: (sliding a bottle of wine out of a paper bag as she walks through the door) This won't cure anything, but it just might make the waiting easier.
Roxy: I doubt it.
Pamela: Well, it couldn't hurt to try.
Roxy: (laughs as she walks toward the kitchen) Look at the two of you. It feels like I'm on the wrong end of an intervention.

Pamela: (Continued Radio Voiceover) The mind plays tricks on us at times like this. It has to. We need it to. It's how we're able to power on and do what needs to be done. Even something as mundane as doing the dishes that are piling up in the sink, or going out, getting up and doing what needs to be done for your loved ones. The future doesn't stop. We all search for strength on that first day or two. I did. But whether what I found was true strength or some part of our DNA that makes us want to reach out and help, I don't know. Times like this we question our own strength, our ability to hang on and not crumble. It's one of the things I admire most about the army wives I've met. Must be a military thing- this capacity to press on despite the obstacles, to see a mission through to its completion. No matter what happens that makes us question the world we live in, life goes on, as cliché as that sounds. One generation passes the baton to the next generation and the cycle of life continues. Regeneration- life renewed. What is it that the poets keep trying to hammer into our heads? Winter becomes spring, night becomes day, as one wave crashes onto the shore and disappears, another one appears behind it, and another and another. I guess we humans just plain want to stick around. The ride must be worth the price of admission. And it's not in us to give up hope, even when any reason for hope has dwindled to almost nothing. This communal spirit, this crazy insistence that we all are connected in each other's caretaker, it keeps us from sinking into despair, or sliding into the abyss. What is it about the human touch- holding a loved one close and feeling their warmth, their heartbeat. I mean this is the Army and frequently our loved ones are far away. But their warmth doesn't have to be. At times it feels totally random. It's roll of the dice on who lives and who dies. At some point words fail us and we're left with silence. Silence and time. I read something once, to live in hears you leave behind, is not to die. I don't know what each of you is going to do today, but now is the time to tell those you love, that you love them. Like we loved Amanda and she lives in our hearts still, and will never be forgotten. Me, I think I'm going to pick up my kids up and take that ride down to the ocean like they wanted. The water's beautiful this time of the year. Besides, they know where the gold starfish are.

Pamela: (Intro Radio Voiceover) This is Pamela Moran. I realize that this isn't my normal radio slot, but normal isn't a word that applies much anymore. Not around here. I don't know how to gently lead up to something like this, so I'm just going to say it. I just found out that someone very near to me died. As you all know, four days ago there was a bombing at the Hump Bar, and the city is still not back to normal. People are trying to understand how something so terrible could have happened here. The destruction, debris, both physical and emotional have taken a heavy toll, though the Army was quick to respond. I too was one of those who was glued to my television. It was as if I only listened to the news reports long enough, and watched the images enough times, that somehow it would all change. On that first day that we were hungering for information, my son came up to me and asked me if I could take him to the beach. Our adult world is falling apart, but in my child's world, he just wanted to go to the beach he said he'd found this secret place where the gold starfish are, and he wanted to show it to me. But no I couldn't pull myself away. I just sat there in front of the television hypnotized by it all. People who aren't in the military don't understand the unique bonds that are forged so quickly on an army post. Maybe it's because we move so much. You know when you rarely spend two or three years in one place, it forces you to get to the heart of things. That's why when one of these people who we've come to care about like they're our own family slips away, leaves us forever, the loss is almost unbearable.