In time for Veteran’s Day comes a new book that explores the emotional impact of loss, resilience, and identity across cultures and generations. Author Carol Van Den Hende‘s ‘Dear Orchid‘ draws on her Asian-American heritage in parts of the book through a series of letters and intimate portraits that explore the messy beauty of friendship, family, disability, and belonging – letters to a girl newly freed from East Berlin, an aunt lost to Communist-era borders, and Purple Heart-decorated heroes.

The first section presents true stories shaped by diaspora, disability, and trauma. The second section of new fiction shows we are all connected by love, humor, and hope.

Below is an excerpt from ‘Dear Orchid’. You can pre-order the book now on Amazon.

Dear Mr. Blue Sweater

Was it a hand-me-down? Had you found it in a thrift bin? You boarded my New Jersey Transit train wearing khaki pants, loafers, and a decidedly unfashionable oatmeal-blue sweater. Scratchy wool hairs sprouted from its worn surface, its V-neck revealing a button-down shirt underneath. But you also sported a warm smile and a pile of books, not a common accoutrement at eleven p.m. on a Saturday night.

So, when you indicated with a nod that you wanted to join my row of three orange seats, I scooted towards the window, leaving an empty space between us. In that moment regarding you, I instantly absorbed an array of impressions. You seemed genuine, trustworthy, warm, and—I don’t know how else to put it—safe.

That night, your literary choice made all the difference.

“Is that John Irving’s new book?” I asked, my tone trending towards excitement as I eyed the patterned grey cover printed with the words A Prayer for Owen Meany.

“Yeah, he spoke at my sister’s college graduation, so I wanted to read it,” you said, your voice new to my ears. Yet you seemed familiar to me, like we’d known each other a long time already.

As the train swayed, you spoke over the clatter of the tracks to tell me about the book and your work as an engineer. You made me chuckle, acting out scenes from the British comedy troupe Monty Python. “It’s just a flesh wound,” you cried, mimicking the tone of the Black Knight after King Arthur dealt a blow that was clearly more than a nick. I always said if there was one quality I needed in a person it was a sense of humor.

In most ways, you weren’t like other men I was drawn to. In those young college days, I tended towards creatives, artists, an edgy style, and a hint of angst. Still, I was disappointed to hear that you’d be getting off at the next stop to change trains.

Then your big brown eyes lit with an idea. “At night, I work at Brentano’s Bookstore to help pay down my student loans. Just give me

your address and I’ll ship you a copy of John Irving’s book.” The train slowed to enter your station.

You were a stranger. Yet your demeanor seemed kind. I calculated a split-second judgment call. I took the pen you offered and scribbled an address into your notebook. Not my actual physical address, but a safe, central location for mail.

You studied my college P.O. Box address and granted me a smile.

“Bye,” you said.

I waved as you left.

It wasn’t goodbye.

A week later, I visited my post office to find a brown paper-wrapped book. Using your return address, I sent a thank you card. Then you wrote me a letter telling me about yourself. You mentioned your parents’ impending divorce. I replied, telling you about my life at school and expressing sympathy for the hard time you must be going through. A few letters later, you wrote to ask me for my phone number.

We spent hours talking, trading stories both heartfelt and funny. One day, you suggested that we meet for dinner.

On our first date, our clashing sartorial choices almost ended our evening prematurely. Your conservative 3-piece blue suit seemed to promise a professorial lecture rather than a fun-filled meal. You later admitted that my outfit gave you pause. My minidress nipped at the waist, black-and-white striped stockings, and shiny patent shoes with oversized bows seemed quirky.

Luckily, those first impressions soon melted away. Once we sat down for dinner, it felt as though there wasn’t enough time for all we wanted to say and do. We prolonged the evening by imbibing drinks at my friend’s bar, laughing and talking all the while. Then we rode the train to New Brunswick to dance at my favorite college hang-out, The

Melody, until its two-a.m. closing time. 

When did you sense this wouldn’t be the last time we saw each other?

***

Our early correspondence now lives together with keepsakes from our travels, alongside handmade pottery from our international assignment to China, our twin’s grade school finger paintings, and marble tiles from our two-year home renovation. On a treasured bookshelf, two copies of A Prayer for Owen Meany have spent the decades of our marriage tucked side-by-side, like a long-time wedded couple.

Somewhere among the stuff we’ve collected over the years, if we dig deep enough, perhaps we could even find your scratchy wool oatmeal blue V-neck sweater. I no longer question your fashion choices. Your favorite “uniform” of a sky-blue button-down shirt, khaki pants, and loafers suits you. As does your kindness, care, and always, your good humor. Thank you, dear Mr. Blue Sweater, thank you for our laughter and our own stories. Enough to fill books, our hearts, and a lifetime of memories.

Carol Van Den Hende is the award-winning author of forthcoming ‘Dear Orchid’, ‘Orchid Blooming’, ‘Goodbye, Orchid’ and ‘Always Orchid’ which are inspired by wounded veterans. The series of books has won 40+ literary awards, including the American Fiction Award, IAN Outstanding Fiction First Novel Award, and Royal Dragonfly for Disability Awareness. Buzzfeed, Parade, and Travel+Leisure named “heartwarming, heartbreaking” ‘Goodbye, Orchid’ a most anticipated read. Glamour Magazine recommended this “modern, important take on the power of love.” Carol’s mission is unlocking optimism as a writer, speaker, strategist, Board member and Climate Reality Leader. You can sign up for Carol’s newsletter at carolvandenhende.com/contact or visit her Linktree for more. Follow Carol on Instagram and Facebook.