When Larry turned to walk back to his post, I reached over the counter to see if I could grab Harper's phone to get a clue as to where she was.
Regardless of my height, I couldn’t see or feel it, all I found was a postcard of some sort. I was about to toss it aside when the heading over an eye-catching photo of a beach resort caught my eye.
Revitalize and Sink Back into You.
A retreat about listening to what your heart and soul truly crave and then giving yourself the opportunity to explore it…
I snapped a photo of the card and slipped it back in place, taking my abnormally bitter coffee with me.
30
OnThursday,themorningof my fifth full day at the retreat, I walked to the smoothie bar by the pool for my green goodness fresh start. The line was smaller, which meant I made a wise choice to sleep in this morning. There was no coffee anywhere on the resort—minor detail they left off on the brochure, but so far, I hadn’t died of deprivation.
Edna and Carl were already out tanning in their same chairs at ten o’clock. They were one of the few couples on the retreat. Over eighty percent of the guests checked in were fifty-five and older, mostly women. Most still-working women, who needed this getaway from the stress of their demanding jobs.
A handful were overworked lawyers, some doctors, writers, and couples suffering from empty nest syndrome after their kids went away to college.
I asked Rosemarie on my second day here if this was the typical age group, and was told there was something in the brochure that mentioned a focus on more on elderly clientele, but didn’t think I’d mind since here, “age is only a number”.
But in the short time I’d been here, I’d come to love these women. Even some of the older couples made me smile, giving me hope that not all men are heartless creatures.
Beth and Jill were two of my favorite attorneys. Both from California but didn’t know each other before they met here. They work for large corporations running them to their bones and needed a mental break.
Vicky was divorced. In fact, a lot of women here were divorced or separated.
There was a lot you learned about people having breakfast with them daily, going for hikes, yoga or volleyball on the beach. And of course,Friends at First Sight, which was held twice a week—it was set up like speed dating and you moved from one person to the next on a chair to get to know why they’re here and what their goals were. Some stories were inspiring. Some sad.
Part of it was to get to know all the people you’ll be spending a lot of time with, another was to ensure you didn’t feel alone in your quest for peace and soul searching.
After my smoothie and whole grain toast, I went to the main office for any mail or messages and also to extend my stay for another week after my eight days were up. I still had three more days, but knew I needed more time. So far, the retreat had done its job, but I had years of built-up anger, regret, loss—and now heartbreak—to fully get past.
“You’re all set for your extension and here is your mail,” Katie at the front desk offered. She handed me a thick padded envelope, a letter—which was likely an invitation to purchase a timeshare here and coupons for stuff to do outside the resort.
“Thanks very much.” I grabbed them and moved aside to a small table, ripping open the thick package first.
My phone.
It was nice not having it for a few days. I’d come to hate this thing after the whole August disaster. I cringed when I thought about all the desperate messages I’d sent him through this device and he’d ignored.
There was no part of me that wanted to text or call him ever again. Neither was there a part of me that wanted to fight for us. The part that wanted to shake him and make him seehewas the one I wanted.
I exhaled an easy breath which I’d learned to perfect during my yoga sessions, but a familiar hollowness crept up in my chest now that I’d allowed myself to think about him again.
Not now. I’ve been doing so well.
Seeing August last Saturday afternoon was painful but also settled me somehow. Even though the amends I’d made that day were with Troy, I felt like I’d said goodbye to August too.
I left them with a smile—a bitter smile maybe, but it felt real for me. And that was enough.
I was relieved to find my phone dead. “One more day without messages won’t hurt.”
Besides, phones technically weren’t allowed during activity or leisure hours, so I slipped it away.
Walking past poolside, I strolled to the beach, which was only a short ramp from the elevated pool deck.
Thursday was bike riding day and since I had never ridden, I passed on it and stayed on the beach with my two lawyer friends.
Since I’d listened to their stories of failed marriages and overworked, yet highly paid lives, they insisted I do all the talking.
