You know it’s summer in DC when the interns start swarming in, all hungry for a stab at the opportunities, all abuzz at being part of the proverbial action.  They’re easy to spot, running around in their new suits and proudly clipping their picture IDs to themselves—wearing their red-lettered TEMPORARY credentials as a badge of honor, strung on lanyards beneath crisply ironed collars.  See, I’m one of you, I belong here.  I’m doing this, too.  That’s the message, and I’ve been there.  I remember that first badge I had.  It’d be a lie to say that the thrill of buzzing myself through doors and past security has worn off.  I’m easily amused, sure, but I remember feeling like the coolest person ever when it was all brand new.

We had a few interns start in our office today.  When I stop and think on it, my intern summer wasn’t that long ago—two years is all—but oh, do I feel a world away from their bright-eyed enthusiasm.  Remember when it was all new? And all exciting? And working in an office meant you were going somewhere and doing something (as opposed, say, to staring at a computer till you need glasses and learning mental gymnastics to tolerate the imbeciles down the hall?).

I was thinking similar thoughts over the weekend.  J remains serious about his future career in music, and we took a day trip to Charlottesville where he had a dinner meeting set up. You’d think we were an old married couple or something; like I was shackled to his business plans.  I tagged along voluntarily, though; I love love love Charlottesville.  It’s a nice drive, too, and getting out for some country air? Always a grand idea. (Yes, I have very simplistic, 50’s era ideas of spectacular weekend plans.  A drive in the country? Charming! Let me pack us a picnic, put on my good hose, load up the station wagon, and we’ll be off, at 20 mph on an old country road.  My imagination? Often my best friend for a reason).

What I didn’t realize was that it was UVA’s graduation weekend.  What I thought would be a nice few hours of me sitting on the downtown mall, novel in hand, watching the world go by was, once it met reality, more like a chaotic scene of strollers and wheelchairs; well dressed younger brothers tugging the hands of newly minted 20-somethings with big dreams. It was a pretty spectacular scene to sit witness to.  I found a cutesy patio panini bar with a spare table, which served as a perfect window to the transitioning world around me.

More than anything, it got me thinking about the very best friend I had in college. We roomed together for three years; we were practically inseparable.  I majored in English, and minored in Biology; she majored in Biology, but minored in English.  We helped each other and loved each other, and oh my goodness we were BFFs and we would star in each other’s weddings and our children would be best friends.  Forever!  Of course!

Our junior year, she was preparing for the MCATS, I for the LSATS, and we timed each other and did hard-core drills.  She went to med school in St. Louis when I moved back to Seattle for law school, and I think the miles and the stress of those years really damaged something great. 

We trade detached e-mails, and sometimes voicemails, but the last time we actually talked was on my birthday in the fall.  She was engaged, she said, to a guy I’d neither met nor so much as heard of. 

They got married on Saturday.  They were standing up in her parents’ living room, saying forever as I sat eating a sandwich and sipping wine, a backdrop to the start of other peoples’ new lives. 

She called me from the airport yesterday, on her way to the honeymoon.  It was different than she’d always thought, getting married, she said, and sitting there in that terminal, she wondered how we’d gotten sidetracked.  How we’d gotten lost.    

I think that there are things in life that you just have to go out there and get.  You have to hold on to the eager enthusiasm of the moment, because getting there? Reaching that last day, finding that best friend and that perfect guy, getting that prized internship? It’s a blip.  Life happens in between those markers, and you have to keep fighting for it.  You have to call those old friends and keep in touch with why you dress up and leave each morning, because that energy, once it gets a kick-start, is really quite catching.  And it’s what holds it all together, as fleeting as it sometimes seems.