Where is the beginning of the sky? Is it on top of the trees? Or is it under our feet? Does it begin at the top of a water fall, or does it start in the ocean? No one knows for sure where the sky begins or where it ends, but I have got a pretty good idea.
When I was just a young girl, my sister would take me to the forest. We’d go on expeditions, never taking the same route twice. We went over hills, under trees, and through flowing rivers. Even though we did not know where we were, we were not ever lost. My sister, named Charlotte, showed me plants that we could eat, plants that were poisonous, and skills that I could use when I was in the forest. Charlotte taught me many different skills on our hikes. I learned to start a fire, catch fish, cook fish, strain river water, and recognize wildlife.
Charlotte started taking me into the woods when I was only seven and she was nine. She just came home from some doctor’s appointment, which I didn’t think anything of, and asked me to go to the woods with her. Being the young child that I was, being able to hang out with my big sister was always a great opportunity. That first hike was pretty stressful, as I had never been in the woods before. I tripped, fell, skinned my knees and elbows, and cried, but my sister never got frustrated. Charlotte would simply pick me up, make sure I was okay, and then keep going.
Our hikes began that day, and I hoped that they would never end. Charlotte and I always took a hike whenever possible. After school, early in the morning, on school breaks, anytime that we both weren’t doing anything was now a time to hike. I didn’t understand why she had suddenly taken me out hiking, as she had always considered my annoying before. But our hikes continued until I was twelve, and she never got frustrated with me. But one day, suddenly I was hiking all on my own.
Everything had been going great; Charlotte and I always took our hikes together, but it all changed in one day. Charlotte got sick, really sick, but I wanted to go to the forest that day like we always did. Charlotte told me to go on without her, but not as far as we usually went in, as she did not want me to get hurt and not be able to get home safely. The days following that, I would always hike on my own, sometimes wondering why Charlotte never seemed to get over her sickness and get better.
One sunny, August day when I was fourteen and a half, I came into the house after a hike to find it completely silent. I was confused; my parents were always home by this time, and they were usually making as much noise as possible. Instead of calling my parents to find out why they weren’t home, I walked towards Charlotte’s room to see if she knew where they had gone. I was expecting her to be lying where she had been when I left, on her bed with a book in hand. Instead, I was greeted by her book lying on the floor. I slowly picked the book up and noticed water marks on a page. I flipped it open to that page and a small letter fell out. The note had water drips on it, and I automatically assumed it was tears. I unfolded the letter and began to read it, the words making tears come to my own eyes.
“My dear Sophia, as you can see, I am no longer here. I am in the hospital due to my illness. I would not let Mom or Dad tell you; I wanted you to stay happy and not worry for me. Your worry would not have made my situation any better; it would have only made yours worse. Sophia, I have leukemia. I’ve known since I was nine years old. That is when I started taking you on my hikes. I wanted to spend time with you and show you something I loved. I will not be coming home, but I want you to keep hiking; I want you to find it. I never got to show you my favorite place, so you must find it on your own. I will wait for you there, I promise, Sophia. I will wait at the place where the sky begins. Your ever loving sister, Charlotte.”
By the time I was finished reading it, tears were running down my cheeks and onto the paper, smearing the elegantly written words. I folded the note back up and stuck it into the same page of Charlotte’s book. I clutched her book to my chest and then slowly walked to my room before completely breaking down in sobs. As I clutched her book to myself, I wished that I could see her one more time. I wished that I could tell her how much I loved her, how much I loved the gift of the woods she had given me. I cried more than I ever had that night.
My sister’s funeral was a short week later, a week which I had not gone hiking. I thought that the forest was Charlotte’s, and I did not belong there without her permission. I know that Charlotte told me to keep hiking, but I could not after that dreadful day. I felt that if I went into her woods again that someone else would be hurt. I went for weeks without hiking, something my previous self would have never done. All I did was sit in my room, reading books to keep away the pain that would cover me in a second. I would be reading and just a word could bring back painful memories that made my heart flood with pain. I could barely leave my room without breaking down into sobs. I had tucked her book away in my nightstand drawer, wanting to keep it because it was hers, but I never wanted to see it after that day.
My parents noticed the change in my behavior. They urged me to go out and hike, to go out and do anything, really, but I could never bring myself to do it. Until one day, I opened my drawer and Charlotte’s book was sitting there. I carefully picked it up and flipped to the page with the note tucked into it. I picked up the letter and unfolded it, tearing up as I looked at Charlotte’s writing. She had promised to meet me where the sky begins, and whenever Charlotte made a promise, she would keep it. That is when I decided to find where the sky begins.
My first few trips back into the woods made me nervous and sad. I usually could not go in more than a few hundred yards before breaking down in tears and became unable to continue on. However, the more I pushed myself into the woods, the more that I began to feel at ease. Sometimes, I would even catch myself smiling at a faint memory of something Charlotte did or said while we were at this certain spot in the forest. It seemed that every day I went into the woods helped me remember Charlotte better and clearer, without the pain engulfing me.
I hiked for weeks upon weeks, trying to find the place Charlotte told me of. I climbed trees to see over everything, I looked in every clearing I came to, but I never could find the place where the sky began. My hikes had also improved my behavior outside of the forest. I could smile and be happy without feeling guilty because Charlotte wasn’t here anymore to laugh and smile with me. I could speak of my sister now without crying; I could tell of the wonderful things we did that no one had noticed. I could walk around our house without being scared of seeing one of her pictures and breaking down yet again.
One day, in the middle of my hike, I began to realize something. I did not understand it at first, but every step I took through the trees made the idea clearer. I could feel Charlotte near me, but also far away from me. It felt like she was right beside me, but also everywhere else in the woods. She was in my classes, behind me when I was in line, she was laughing at me while I goofed off with my friends. She was there, she was with me. She was in my heart, a part of me now, and she always would be, no matter what.
That is where the sky begins. It starts under you, and over you. It begins in your heart, but also outside of you. It starts everywhere, yet nowhere at all. It consumes space, yet has nowhere to go. The sky begins when you realize it was always there.