Boarding Pass Poetry

What if we all carried our lives in a backpack,
The way weary travelers do,
Waiting in queues for hours
To reunite with loved ones,
Only to leave with a lingering sadness,
After a brief gathering that only partly fills the emptiness
Of a mother grown old,
Aged by her children becoming adults,
Meeting at gate 1F,
Where time is both a journey and a reminder.