One by one the busses arrived.  I stood there in the summer heat waiting for a glimpse of my son.  It has been a full week since I last saw him. 

It was my friend who saw him first.  I turned to see my YaYa's smile, which is so sunny it would bright up the gloomiest of days.  It was great to see him again.  I felt the tears surfacing as we hugged, and I held him just long enough to push them back.

Less than an hour later, I was at the airport bidding my dear friend goodbye.  We hugged and, this time, it was not me who was holding back the tears.  I hoped that her arrival at home would be greeted with a much needed long embrace, and that her tears would begin to wash some of the pain away.