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#313 Monday 27 Aug 1945 4:45 pm My dearest, dearest darling Altho I've gone around today behaving about as usual, I've felt underneath particularly full of the feeling of you (and not just physically), loving you so much that it fills me with a sense of wonder now when I stop a moment to take it in, and missing you keenly but yet in a bearable way, as though thinking ‘Darling, I want you and want to be with you now, but it can't be too long before I really am with you and that knowledge sustains me for the present-’ More and more a feeling which I didn't have (but which perhaps you did) before we were married grows upon me - that we were fated to meet and to marry and our love to grow as it has done. I know I'll find the same you as you were when I left, and yet you've grown so much since I've been away, and for the first time I am aware that you've done so for the most part independently [pg 2] of anything I've said or done, and are your own person. That fact invests you with a certain sense for me of mystery: so that I no longer feel as tho I can mold or influence you at will, and that's good both for you and for me. It isn't that I'll ever cease to want to influence you, I hope, or to do so, or that either of us will chose to need the other. I need you now, yet even at a distance you bring me confidence and decision. I should like it to be that my need of you is always slightly, but only slightly, less than yours of me; that neither's dependence on the other embodies an inability to be independent, but is measured, rather (as I think it really is now) in positive terms of what we can give each other rather than in the negative sense of what we must take. Still, I wouldn't be one for drawing the line sharply; there are times and times. And this is one of the times when a growing feeling of admiration for you is accomplished at the expense of no self-deprecation on my part, but just leaves me full of pride [pg 3] in you, and in us for the beginning we have made of our marriage under such difficult circumstances. These reflections are occasioned by many things - your feelings toward Wendy: ‘I love her as much as I could any child, but it doesn't overwhelm me’; your tactful and unhurt reception of my rather foolish and extravagant letters of a short time back; just the way you show me your love of me, and the way you write about Wendy in general - and then all that I read between the lines. I say foolish - I haven't changed my essential ideas about a man's responsibility in wartime; but that's no grounds for ranting about them. I suspect that you’re teaching me more by not talking Sweetie, than I am you with what I say. Tuesday 7:15 am Last night, just made to order, I had a dream to match yours of Sunday the 19th (of which you tell me in a letter received yesterday). And dammit, dammit, dammit, I took woke up, just as you were ready to take me, after I’d been loving you up (and down and around) - at least that part [pg 4] was clear - and was all eagerness, with you soft and warm and melting. Dammit! Last night, after the first characteristic rainy season day we've had with signs that it might continue through the evening (it began again late last night and is raining now) we decided to hold the movie in the auditorium, which will accommodate about 2000 kids. It was a long one: Ingrid Bergman in “Saratoga Trunk,” and we just barely got through by 9:30 curfew. I should like now to see “Intermezzo” her picture of 6-7 years back with Leslie Howard - I wouldn't say too much for “Saratoga Trunk” except that I liked Bergman and would like to see her in something better. Incidentally, Tel says she's the spit'n image of Janie, or vice versa, and Boulder friends used to tease him about marrying a movie star. It's such a gray day - wish I could spend it here writing to you, and dreaming some more. I love you, darling, with all of me. A soft, lush kiss and a warm round embrace to you - Warren
