The bus stops again, and the middle-aged woman and her son stand to depart. The elder lady kisses the young boy and he blushes, wiping his cheek. He takes a picture of the old lady with tears in her eyes. Confused, he helps push the tears off her cheek with his stubby fingers, wishing she wouldn’t cry and he hadn’t wiped her kiss off. The old lady smiles and passes him to his mother who squeezes the old lady’s hand. The women share a rueful smile, and pass thoughts; happy, sad and true, from one to the other in the shake and tremble of their hands. The young boy hides in his mother’s hair, blissfully unaware, and she cries for the joy of his small heart. She steps off the bus, sobbing happily with her love and rejuvenated pleasure. She looks forward to face everything, with her very own saviour in her arms.