Legacy

As the time to departure nears, the lists get shorter, I see the people, I complete the tasks, I prepare, and stuff away the items. Its a procedural thing. An order to follow. An allotment of time and a goal to accomplish.

But these people keep grabbing and prodding, and jarring me from my course. 
And I like it, I love it, the outpouring, the hugs and tears, and the unquestionable sentiments. The desire to see me off safe, but with a bit of reserved jealousy, a little bit of frustration, a little bit of bite. They want to see they've left a mark. So they dig, and stab, and claw with such beautifully loving gestures... and I crumble just a bit. I crumble because I can't handle that level of truth without biting my cheek, without a bit of salty wound. 

I can't leave a robot. They won't let me, and it fills me with some big breaths. Some hard swallows.

But when I try to speak even a bit... to share with them back... it just doesn't come out the way it should. 

So I feel like I'm leaving without offering reassurances. Without people knowing the gifts they've given me have mattered, have changed me, nourished me for so long.

What is this tourniquet around my speech, this restraint...  
I feel like I am selfishly gathering the blessings and running away.