Colleague

Today my intern supervisors took me out for lunch at the California Pizza Kitchen -- in view, they said, of the state that would be taking me away from them.

For the first time, my supervisors were real people ... people who have odd tastes in pizza, who have quirks and eat goat cheese and have plans for the weekend.

I feel that I never got to see that side of them until today, but being the only younger person among a group of people closer to my parents' age, I felt like I had to keep my interrogation to a minimum. I couldn't press them on why they chose religion reporting, why they didn't pray before lunch, what their kid is like. It just wasn't my show.

So with one day left, I'll have to settle for the cold cordiality of professionalism. I'll settle for the title of "colleague" that is my safety buffer for knowing or revealing too much, that title that is also the wedge that makes me lonely. I don't really know if my colleagues are good or bad, weak or strong, and I think they like that.

I say goodbye tomorrow. But there won't be tears in the office.