Objects, in motion, in a finite area, will likely interact and affect each other's motion.
How many years, I asked my mother (In disbelief). 25, she said, without any tone of sarcasm. Their anniversary had been last week and they exchanged cards and went to dinner somewhere. I happened to see the card when I was over at their house for an afternoon.
My parents do not speak of these things. They also do not talk much to each other, although they often speak at each other. He: Staring at the paper at the kitchen table. "Are we going to the Sheltons on Sunday?"
She: looking under the sink for a brush or a sponge, "Yes, dear, we are."
They have done this for years, existing in the same house but not with each other as much as sharing living quarters. Even when they get in and out of the same car they can manage to not come into direct contact with one another. My sister, who lives out of state says that if either had a communicable disease, the other would not suffer from it. I think that is true. But even if it is a dance of avoidance, it is still a dance. Their dance.
"I had no idea it was the big one," I offered to my mom that afternoon. She waltzed by me, bag of trash in one hand and a dish towel in the other-"It was not a big one, I can assure you of that." The trash bag was for my benefit, since I had not volunteered to take it out as she finished the lunch dishes. My little dish of guilt. When she came back in I asked if I could buy them a little gift. She shook her head and whizzed past, a Dawn breeze.
"That day has come and gone son, come and gone."