You are already gone in your head, aren't you. Boarding pass in one hand, checking the time, running the mental list of what's in the bag, half-annoyed at the line, at the woman announcing zones, at the fact that this always takes longer than it should.
Look up. Just for a second. Look at who came all the way here just to stand near you until the last possible moment.
You will not remember the delay. You will not remember the gate number or whether the flight was late. But you will remember exactly how they hugged you here, the particular way they held on a beat past what was comfortable, the pat on the back that meant they didn't quite trust their voice. You do it a certain way, the people who love you. You know it when it happens, even now, even distracted.
From where I'm sitting, this is not a chore. This is one of the last easy goodbyes, back when goodbye was ordinary and the next hello was assumed.
So hug them the whole beat. Let the line move without you. You have time. I promise you, from here, you had so much more time than you thought.
Then go catch your flight. It's a good trip.
You come home.