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Zaya nudged me. “Come on, let's look around.”
* * *
The evening sun cast a golden glow through the large windows as I unpacked my suitcase, the light catching on the silver threads of my favorite maxi dress. The mountain house's wooden floors creaked softly under my bare feet, adding to the symphony of cozy sounds—the rustle of fabric, the soft thud of books being placed on nightstands, and the laughter of my friends echoing from the other rooms.
“Guys, look at this quilt!” Zaya called from the master bedroom, her voice threaded with awe. I peeked in to see her running her fingers over a patchwork of vibrant colors that adorned the king-sized bed.
“Feels like grandma's house, if your grandma was a hipster artist,” Skylar observed, joining us in the doorway, carrying her makeup bag.
“Exactly,” I agreed, feeling the warmth of the room wrap around me like a hug. “It's all so personal, so lived-in. This is what I want the retreat to feel like.”
“Check out this collection of vinyls!” Enzo chimed in from the living area, where an antique record player sat like a proud relic of the past. We gathered around as he flipped through the albums, commenting on his favorites.
“Let's promise to play at least one of these every night,” I suggested, already imagining how the sound of vinyl would fill the space.
“Deal,” they chorused.
“I also just wanted to thank you for coming with me. I know it’s not as exciting and glamorous as some of the other trips we’ve been on?—“
“Oh no, stop that right now,” Zaya said. “You know we’re not picky.”
“I know, I know.” This core circle was here because they were the only ones I could trust. Not just trust to be receptive to a retreat in the mountains with no room service, but trust with every aspect of my life.
“And you should also know,” she continued with a gleaming eye, “that we know, there’s something calling you here.”
“Wait, what?”
Zaya tucked her arm into mine. “You’ve been talking about starting your own wellness retreat for over a year now.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“It’s not?”
“No. I mean . . . I didn’t mean for it to be.”
I looked over to Enzo and Sky who were smiling at me with the same knowing look in their eyes.
“What’s that look for?” My head was a swivel, studying my friends. “Did you all come here in cahoots or something?”
Skylar shook her head. “We came here to support you.”
“And to help nudge you in the right direction,” Zaya added.
“And what direction is that?”
“Come on, bella, you know what you want to be doing. We are here to support!”
“Enzo, I promise I don’t know what I want to be doing.”
“Yes you do,” they chorused, and that was becoming a thing apparently.
Zaya squeezed me tighter. “Look, we just want you to take a chance on yourself. We know you’ve been wanting a change. And we’re not saying it has to be now, or it has to be here. But maybe this trip can be a little preview of what that change might look like.”
My friends were saying the words I’d been longing to hear. Sure, it was fine to have dreams. And share them. But I didn’t really think they’d paid close attention to me when I talked about it. It was all a far-off goal. Not even a goal, just an idea. Broad strokes. Hypotheticals. Was I selling myself short?
I looked around at my friends, the closest people in the world to me, and knew I had to get real honest with myself. If they believed in me—and they were the best people I knew—I had to at least try to believe in myself, for their sake.
“Okay. I don’t know what this means or what I’m even agreeing to, but okay.”
