Images of Love: The Sweetest Kiss

At times, blog-hopping can bring the sweetest of memories back. And here is one such post:

I was rushing to get to office that morning. On the way, I have to cross an overhead bridge that stretches from the bus-stop where I align, to a hawker centre.

A short flight of stairs awaits me before the pungency of cooking infuses my nostrils. There a middle-aged woman stood motionless, an arm around that of another. The second woman, with hair all white, presuming the mother, had a cane in hand, the skin on her face and neck all wrinkled. She was descending the stairs with tremendous effort, as if each small step would take her last ounce of strength.

By the time I caught up, the bony, stick-like legs of the mother were reaching the bottom of the stairs. As her sole touched the cold red tiles, with a twinkle in the eyes, a warm smile spreading from ear to ear, the daughter turned to face her on the cheek before planting a full-lipped peck on it. Crimson flashed across her face momentarily, as the daughter shyly caught my glance. Flushing slightly with warmth surging to my heart, I gave an appreciative grin, an approving nod before getting on my way.

It is moment like these that touches the very core of the soul which makes the transience of all things so beautiful and sweet.