The energy between them went further than just the physical. An intimacy also existed that really couldn't be described. In trying to they would write little stories of the moments that made them long for each other. He wrote about the night in the back of the taxi. It was a cold and damp evening which left a film of condensation on the windows. On the drive from the restaurant she was almost in his lap, nuzzling into him like a child. That made them warm. He began drawing love hearts with his finger and she smiled at him, causing his own love-heart to melt away.

She would write about the moments of waiting; that anticipation of his arrival and all the freshening up she would do so that their time together became even more special. There was a healthiness in their being apart; if it wasn't so there was a concern that they would consume each other. They both knew and talked about this.

Together they wrote about those long sleep-interrupted nights. Falling in to each other's bodies soon after the kids were asleep, making love for what seemed like forever, and then drowsily meeting their own sleep, only to wake again and again to rediscover each other's warmth. Often at these times it would rain; they loved the sound of rain.

And then there were the conversations, the endless mind-connected ramblings which were still sometimes interrupted through their mutual desire for physical bonding.

It went further than that though. The bliss was not eternal; they knew that. That is the part that made it all so much more alive between them. She would scream at the children sometimes, and he would just watch her, not saying anything, just waiting. Eventually she would talk, and that's when the healing began, just listening to her, and holding her if that's what she wanted. As the years went on the anger slowly left her and he knew that this would never have happened if he'd tried to force it - she knew too.

And on his side there was the intense depth of his emotions; the fears that wanted to devour him. They frightened her, although she was generally able to remain passive around them. She trusted he would out grow them one day; there really wasn't much more that she struggled with in him. He did out grow them, and eventually began to trust himself.

They made love less as the years went on, although when they did it seemed to always increase in intensity. And even in the gray of their older years, the children would still have to knock when they would visit with the grand kids, smiling cheekily, knowing that they could be disturbing them.