OUT ON THE HILL is the official blog of the Victory Congressional Interns. Views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of LGBTQ Victory Institute. Learn more about the internship at victoryinstitute.org/vci.
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In the state of the eternal summer, seasons never really change. Florida is always hot, everyone is always sweating, and the biggest temperature change is walking into a building blasting air conditioner with the humidity now stuck to your skin suddenly making you shiver. It is an odd state. But when I was little, among the palm trees and evergreens, there was one tree that would change its leaves during Spring. I remember being enamored how this huge dogwood, living next to I-75, could be so incredibly beautiful. The sun shined down, the pink flowers glowed softly, and birds fluttered next to an old couple enjoying their later years in the sunshine state. At the time, I usually was rushing to school from sleeping in late, but that morning scene would stick with me as a rare view into what happiness and safety can look like.
Fast forward to today. Again, I have slept in too late for my own good. My feet carry me in a similar rush as if it were my first day. I was luckily fast enough to sneak in with a river of other black coated professionals heading for the same destination. The Washington, D.C. wind feels like a whip, the raisin bagel I attempted to carry in my mouth is falling, and my stuff is being juggled as I rush. But then I stopped once I saw it. It was a tree, full of beautiful pink flowers like I used to see so long ago. There was a sweet smell in the air while the blossoms swayed gently in rhythm. I discovered these were the Washington, D.C. cherry trees, and they began to bloom.
I began to do some research on them. The story of the cherry trees in the U.S. is one of friendship. The Japanese government in 1912 originally gifted these trees to the people of the United States. Over 3,000 trees were sent from the Mayor of Tokyo to share goodwill between the two nations. Although we know with hindsight that the U.S. and Japan would be adversaries in World War II, the trees were not burnt nor cut down and have stood for over a century. It is almost unimaginable nowadays that in war and pain, the gifts were not demolished out of sheer pettiness. After all, our party politics nowadays gives the impression that all those that compete instantly have to go scorched earth. But yet, in a world war, people still fought to preserve that sign of friendship and undertook the herculean task to protect them. I believe we can still learn a lot of that story nowadays, especially during the bitter fighting in the court of public opinion.
But for now, the world felt slow as I sat looking in wonder at the cherry blossoms. The memories of Florida dogwood trees made me feel warm again on my cheeks and left me some time to think. I thought about the incredible people I’ve been able to meet. Whether it’s the sassy staffers that are the real change makers of an office, the maintenance workers that never fail to make me laugh on a stressful day, or the capitol police who have saved both me and my stuff from being lost more than I could admit. I thought about all the wonderful LGBTQI+ professionals that have really mentored me, and made me feel less alone in the political world. I especially thought about that old couple relaxing. Remembering it made me flushed with the feelings of my own love that I have for my partner that the internship enabled to not be so long distance anymore. So I sat under the shade of pink blossoms, and enjoyed the little window into my childhood. I was home.
