The Gisela and Everything After

The Berlin sun that Friday afternoon was the kind that makes you believe the city is always like this. We were out on the Spree aboard a small boat called Gisela—the whole team, a magnificently strange captain, and a buffet that had absolutely no business being as good as it was on something that size. Bonnie the dog came too, our unofficial mascot, and she had the time of her life. Jessi nearly took the boat apart from the inside through sheer enthusiasm. Simone came about four inches from going overboard—someone shouted "keep your legs in" and that only made everything funnier. The tourists on the proper tour boats stared at us like we were the problem. We were completely fine with that.

The evening had the feeling a last day gets when you don’t want to call it what it is. Four weeks of actual working life—showing up, building things, feeling like I’d earned a small right to be there—and it had gone better than I’d expected. We gave a presentation that night, then stood around with beers until it was dark enough to admit it was over. Next week: back to vocational school. Saturday: the Baltic Sea, which I’d been looking forward to in that quiet, almost nervous way you look forward to things you actually want. Good ending. The kind where something’s already waiting on the other side.