Nicole Bary

Second Place: Nonfiction

“Our Deciduous Sanctuary” 
by Nicole Bary 
12th grade, Chatham High School

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The patch of woods behind our house was a symphony of towering emerald-green trees. The birds sang melodically along to the sway of the warm summer breeze. My big sister and I would play under our “Magical Canopy” forged by intertwining branches, climbing ivy, and streaming sunlight. It was our safe haven in the woods; no harm could come to us there because we sprinkled it with magic glitter. The fragrance of fir trees was ubiquitous and crisp. The itchy ivy scratched at our ankles, just above our light-up Skechers. In our deciduous sanctuary, we created “The Maze of Bushes” by cutting back branches with a red plastic hatchet. “The Fox’s Fortress” was a cave composed of leaning twigs, and each spring, the mother fox would wean her cubs there. They were always gone by May when “The Flower Patch” would bloom violet, yellow, and pink. The wildflowers had a grassy scent, though we pretended they smelled of the finest perfume and collected bouquets for our mom. “Olivia and Nicole’s Restaurant” was made up of three cement chunks perpendicular to each other. There, we created mud pies deliciously decorated with colorful pebbles and superior-quality sticks. 

These were the summers of our childhood, where we roamed as freely as our imaginations would take us.  

Every so often, my sister would spot a bear or a lion whose only goal was to eat us alive. “Do you see their sharp fangs!?” my sister shouted. “Do you hear their roars!?” I did not, but I was still scared to death. “Hurry!” My sister would grab my hand and lead me through the Maze of Bushes. The twigs scratched our legs as branches snapped quickly behind us. We always made it to our Magical Canopy just in time. There, catching our breath, under the shelter of intertwined branches sparkling with glitter dust, my sister would hold my hand until it was safe to venture out again. Of course, the Magical Canopy did not shelter us from lions or bears, or rain or wind, even if we believed it did. However, it provided us with the fantasy of childhood, the safety of sisterhood, and an escape from the reality that comes with age. 

My big sister was three years older, though as kids, it felt like nothing. Our age did not distinguish our happiness. Even as we matured, it felt as if our age gap lessened, and our friendship grew. She was my best friend. As the years progressed, the hours we spent together slowly reduced to minutes a week. We’d discuss lighthearted topics in those minutes, like to-do lists and sporting events. Then, there were no minutes left at all.

The clock of childhood had stopped. 

School responsibilities crushed my childhood fantasies of fox fortresses, flower patches, and mud pies in the woods. As I somehow languished between childhood and adulthood, my sister grew up, and I realized she was no longer mine. 

Everything changed when she left.

One sunny fall afternoon, when my sister was at college, I wandered through our deciduous sanctuary. It seemed more silent than before. The birds chirped softly. They no longer filled the space with songs. The trees seemed to have shrunken. I could easily grasp the dangling crisp autumn leaves, which I used to jump for and barely reach. The sharp scent of fir trees lingered, and the ivy scratched my ankles just above my Converse. But the bare branches still carried our story. The forest I returned to, alone, played our memories of racing through the maze, dancing in the rain, and leaping through our illusion of the great, glorious world. Although, as time does to everything, our deciduous sanctuary had changed. I found the Maze of Bushes lost to years gone by, and the Fox’s Fortress was a neglected memory. Those three cement chunks of Olivia and Nicole’s Restaurant had been leveled. Once a vibrant oasis of color, the Flower Patch was paved over to provide a direct route to the park behind the library. Though littered with crushed beer cans and cigarette butts, I continued to feel its glitter of innocence. The echo of laughter rang through the lost magical canopy, and I realized the place we once treasured was no longer ours, but it served as a testament to the everlasting bridge between two sisters no matter where life would take us.