A Weekend At A Friendship Retreat – Short Story
Short Story – A Weekend At A Friendship Retreat
Some weekends come and go. This one is meant to change you.
A circle gathers at a simple lodge: C.S. Lewis with his teacher’s warmth, Virginia Woolf carrying hard-won honesty, Willa Cather steady and kind, G.K. Chesterton all joy and spark, J.R.R. Tolkien quiet but loyal, Simone Weil thoughtful and sacrificial, Ralph Waldo Emerson anchored in truth, Henry David Thoreau plainspoken and sincere, and William James—the gracious facilitator who keeps the room open and human. They don’t arrive for theory. They arrive to practice friendship.
From the first night, they set a tone that’s both simple and demanding. Each offers one word—signposts for the weekend: “Trust,” “Comfort,” “Truth,” “Compassion,” “Support,” “Fellowship,” “Appreciation,” and “Respect.” It reads like a blueprint for sturdy relationships—and it becomes the work of the next two days.
By morning, Lewis is at the chalkboard mapping foundations: common ground, loyalty, honesty, affection. Around the table, the room fills in the rest—Emerson argues for sincerity; Chesterton lifts up laughter; Simone names selflessness; Virginia asks for understanding; Willa stakes out dependability; Tolkien points to loyalty; James highlights appreciation; and Thoreau claims respect as the guardrail that lets each person stay fully themselves. This isn’t abstract. It’s a practical list they intend to live by together.
The afternoon moves from ideas to action. Pairs form—Tolkien with Chesterton; Emerson with James; Simone with Virginia; Lewis with Thoreau—so each person can tell a real friendship story while the other practices listening all the way. Laughter breaks out (umbrella duels in a back garden), and the room also goes quiet when pain surfaces. The point lands: friendship is built on attention, not performance.
By the final evening, insights sound less like speeches and more like promises. Willa rediscovers hope; Tolkien learns that sharing sorrow lightens it; Virginia chooses connection over isolation; Chesterton vows to make time, not just assume it; Simone learns to receive care, not only give it; Emerson renews his faith that friendship transcends differences; Thoreau sees that good friends deepen solitude rather than threaten it; Lewis feels the shift from theory to practice; and James—eyes smiling—commits to the kind of attention that helps people flourish. That’s the real curriculum.
This story invites you to pull up a chair near the fire and watch how friendship is actually built: show up; tell the truth; listen without fixing; give and receive care; hold one another to a higher standard—with kindness. If you’ve wondered whether deep friendship can survive in a hurried, guarded world, consider this a working example. My hope is simple: that something here nudges you to call an old friend, welcome a new one, and practice the kind of presence that turns good intentions into real connection. And when the weekend ends—photograph on the steps, hugs that say more than words—you’ll feel it too: the circle doesn’t close; it widens.
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