The last day of my time with Team Whitmer was bittersweet; I trudged into the office, late from a policy meeting, with a heavy heart and black coffee in hand. It was the house brew, my favorite drink from the coffee shop down the block which had so proudly endorsed my candidate in the primary. The coffee was one part of my newfound summer uniform; the other components consisted loosely of a business casual dress (preferably one which could hide sweat stains), comfy sneakers to boot, and a slick ponytail––so as not to interrupt any of the busy days ahead with a stray hair or a pinched toe.
There was also the daily parking ticket… but we won’t dwell on that.
I sat with my coworkers for the last time and crafted PDF guides for the next batch of interns, forced to confront each element of the work which had become second-nature in the previous months. It was in exercise in reflection, disguised within a routine assignment. And then it was time to depart for Detroit.
I rang in this last day with joy, staffing two glorious events in southwest Michigan. The energy was electric, a perfect culmination of our collective investment in the cause. I stood feet away from our primary contenders as they gave statements of unity. They joined Team Whitmer, just as I was departing. It was poetic, if you’re willing to look past the corniness of that observation.
I brushed shoulders with the opposition, as we forged forth like travelers to opposite gates. Arrival, departure.