I was twelve, and the sixth floor of the hospital felt like the top of the world.
The air was too clean, the walls too white, and everything smelled of something I couldn’t name. People whispered here. No one laughed. They spoke like they were afraid of disturbing the silence that draped every corner.
Grandma lay in the bed behind me, small and still. Machines beeped softly beside her. Mom sat with her, eyes red, her fingers gently clutching Grandma’s fragile hand.
But I wasn’t looking at her.
I was at the window.
It stretched tall, framing the sky like a painting. Beyond the glass, the city shimmered in the afternoon sun. Buildings stood like giant towers of glass and steel. But it was the sky that caught me.
It was clear.
Blue.
Endless.
An eagle appeared, gliding effortlessly across that vast space. It circled high above the rooftops, wings wide and steady. It didn’t flap. It didn’t rush. It moved like it belonged there, like it knew something I didn’t.
My fingers touched the cool glass. For a moment, everything else disappeared—the machines, the whispers, the sorrow. All I could see was that eagle and the sky.
The wind slipped through the window. Warm and soft, it played with my hair like a lullaby, like the breath of the world.
It didn’t ask questions. It didn’t offer answers. It just was.
And I let it carry me.
What if this was my room?
What if I lived in this sky?
What if every morning, I could wake to this eagle, this wind, this light?
My thoughts floated far above the hospital floor, far above Grandma’s fading breath. I wasn’t trying to be heartless. I just didn’t know how to carry all that sadness. So I looked up.
Because the sky didn’t hurt.
The sky didn’t cry.
It simply existed, soft and open and free.
The eagle kept circling.
Maybe it was waiting for someone.
Maybe it was showing someone the way.
Maybe it would carry her when the time came.
Or maybe… it was showing me how to be brave.
How to rise.
How to be light.
Behind me, I heard a soft sob. I didn’t turn around.
Not yet.
Because I was still in the sky.
Still touching the wind.
Still whispering to the eagle with my eyes, "Take me with you. Just for a little while."
He dipped once, then soared behind a tall building. Gone.
The wind lingered a moment longer, brushing my cheeks, then drifted away.
I stepped back.
The room was still the same.
But I wasn’t.
I had seen something beautiful.
I had felt something that didn’t need words.
And maybe, when Grandma went, she’d find that sky waiting for her.
Maybe she’d become the wind..
Or just a whisper I’d feel again someday, brushing my hair, reminding me of a moment when everything stood still...
And the sky held me.
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