Weathering Lifes Storms

Their chests rise and fall almost in unison with deep breaths, slowly calming. Collapsed onto his chest, Sarah feels the warmth of an embrace. Loving. Meaningful. From the outside looking in, a young couple, melted atop one-another following the throws of passion. The reality, instead, perhaps even more romantic as two gently aged souls, seemingly as if carefully curated for eachother, lay blissfully together as one, with the slowly calming labored breaths brought on only by excitement and subsequent relief afforded by this reality. Not two youthful vessels of perfection but rather matured life travelers in need, perfect for the moment. The air, in the sense of the stage on which their souls have met is one of relief, of resilience, for enduring the challenges thus far in life to be joined at this juncture in time. The air, in which they take in and share in such close proximity, the blend of a pine filtered freshness carried in by whispering winds prancing about the walls of the small cabin where they lay, highlighted by the earthy scent of rains now passed in symphonic blend with the musky tones of a man and woman wrapped tightly.

They have yet to speak a word. The care and encouragement they have shared for months, all through their keyboards which provided safety and discretion, now was offered by the body, the mind and the heart. Oh, most definitely they heard the other, again and again, he, her trailing beautiful accent lingered in his mind as he absorbed her prose, and for she, his soft spoken language of love he diligently penned.

But now, no doubt by chance, but also of necessity, Sarah now finds herself curled and tucked into the arms of not a partner of passion, though in an earlier life they appear as if that may have been been, if only, but instead the embrace of a loving friend. Their mutual need for touch, beginning worlds apart, from the continental divides of their upbringings to the many miles between them when first discovered, has brought them here. To this moment, now.

Though their stories differ indeed...the how, the why, and perhaps even the sought after outcome, they have now taken on new meaning to eachother. Emotions extend a tear slowly down his cheek to find her forehead as she nuzzles into his neck. A feeling of being loved. Needed. Tantalized by the warmth of her inhales and exhales of his cologne, he lightly scratches down her back in a return of senses. Not the feeling of flesh, instead, the softness of cotton nightwear, their agreed upon barrier of platonic boundary. Her soft scent and bodily warmth so too brings an excitement to air, a boyish excitement he finds unrestrainable following years of hunger, desire, need. Shielded only by his mutual choice of a thinly woven undergarment, his presence is felt. His reward is not an action of sensual response, but more, the quiet lack of recognition followed by the gentle rustling of their legs, drawing them together, sharing that special bond of two pressing bodies as if to say it is okay.

Their pulses again race, the warmth between them again grows. Their lips softly brush the flesh of the friend with whom they are tightly wound, without meeting. This silent gesture for her was too a loving response to what she knew to be a meaningful reaction, as he had acknowledged the struggles age had put on his body, the embarrassing inconsistencies which brought him pause and hesitance to pursue climbing back into an arena of the physical bonds of passion. For him, a reassurance that he now held tightly not a woman solely seeking a one-off thrill or meaningless engagement to be forgotten upon parting, but instead, a caring person, a friend, looking for the mutual and meaningful memory that their embrace will forever etch into their minds.

Again calming, regenerating the air of their realities, together they find common ground for the touch and compassion they both seek. Within only a seemingly few ticks of the clock, they once more find the temperature in the room to have risen. His hand feaverishly kneads down the curves of her body until on it she places two of her own as if to say again, it is time to slow, to re-establish the boundaries, and control the primal desires they both instinctually share after the many passing sunsets withdrawn. On the hand she now holds, she slowly traces the defined lines which no doubt tell stories of fruitful years, labored years, an ardored past of both love and life.

Placing it gently to her chest and holding it tight to her inviting bosom. He feels not just her warmth, not just the beating of her heart, but most importantly to him, the trembling yet solidifying punctuation to the special space they now share. His fingertips, gently curl at the soft collar of her top, his nails lightly drag downward with wishful tugs. His urge is to further grip and tear away that thin layer between them, expose the beauty of her body he knows lies before him, and ravage her breasts with his hands and his lips. Instead, agreeing with the course of her decision, he deeply presses his face into her hair, breaths, sighs, tames himself to again seek composure.

They continue this cycle of emotion and at moments, near passion, for hours until she has again melted her body into his. With that, the silence is finally broken, as Sarah is reminded that she is beautiful. And he means it. Inside. Outside. A beauty unparalleled to him. She has given to him more than any act of physical intimacy, but instead, the intimacy of her being. A caring touch unmeasurable with common descriptives. Shelter. Safety. Security. They both readily sought these life standards as they had typed descriptive, sometimes playful and almost loving messages to one another.

But these were not the seemingly simple standards in the physical sense, but instead the shelter, safety and security afforded only in the arms of another. Strangers? Perhaps. And surely, again, an outsider may think so. But months of smiles brought to each by the other in admiration of the written words they shared along with the occasional pictures, serving as subtle reminders of being real and imperfect in ways meant to be, those were the foundation of a friendship, a hand built framework which many fail to achieve in years of gestureless silence. Short term? Yes. Sadly, they will go separate their ways, physically, to fulfill their past vows taken in life or to embark on new horizons, paths yet to be determined. Short only, however, in the sense of time, as the blissful remnant of this interlude will forever endure deeply in their beings and will be drawn upon in need.

The last tears of the day bring with them a final hug, not the other way around, as their guards had been lowered to allow the relief so sought after leading up to the day. This final cuddling gesture, taking them back to how they first met, seeking embrace, now firmly wrapped as an offering to remember each by as they part to take to "Weathering Life's Storms." Deeply they look into the eyes before them, ever so briefly their lips meet. Again, IF ONLY.