The "face" of normal

This past week off was so relaxing, and almost idyllic. The biggest dilemmas we faced were what to eat (mostly soup) and what to watch (usually a goofy comedy, or Mythbusters). Yet, part of me is a little happy for things to get back to normal. And, I’m not going to lie, the thing I’m most excited to have become “normal” again is Husband’s face. It seems like it’s something of a tradition, or maybe even a requirement, for military men to grow facial hair when they have a chunk of time away from work. The prospect of not having to shave is just too thrilling for most military men to take, and they immediately neglect their razors for as long as possible. Husband stopped shaving a week ago. I didn’t protest because I wouldn’t want to interfere with military tradition. (That, and I knew my complaints would be useless against such a strong precedent.) The first day or so he looked almost normal, except with a faint five o’clock shadow. As the days went on, a slight beard started to grow, as did my dislike for his unshaven face. Now, it’s almost looking so outrageous that even Husband started having his doubts about it, especially before church. When we arrived in the church parking lot, he took a quick peek at himself in the car’s rear view mirror, and said, “Now I’m starting to look ridiculous.” (I didn’t disagree.) He joked that fellow churchgoers might pull him aside and beg him, for the sake of all that is holy, to shave. Unfortunately, he’s now at the point of no return. He has only this last day to go, before he has to shave for work tomorrow. We both have accepted (I, more reluctantly, than he) that his dark, scraggly beard will stay for just a little bit longer. But tomorrow, things will return to normal. Then I can finally see Husband’s handsome, clean-shaven face, and I won’t have to wonder who this bearded stranger is in our house.