For others, home is a place to rest after a long day, a warm and cozy shelter to hide in.
While I do love being warm, I think the place I feel the most at home is not inside my house, but on top of it. It's pretty silly, I know, but up on the roof you can see everything and it's nice to know that nothing can change up there without you seeing it. Once you climb the slim, slightly shaky, metal ladder, you can see rolling hills with trees scattered all over the green grass, with the occasional house way hiding right by the blue sky. In the warm months you can see a patch of blooming sweet peas, turning the green to a florescent pink. In the winter all of the trees turn bare and the hills are white, pure innocence to a not so innocent month here in Michigan.
Turn your head to the right and you can see neighbors rooftops that are almost perfectly aligned in neat rows. Sometimes you see a person every now and then, either fixing damaged shingles or shoving piles of snow off the roof so their place of comfort doesn't turn into a mess of wood and shingles caused by the weight of too many fallen snowflakes.
Going on top of the roof is a perfect place to read a novel, gain inspiration to draw a picture, or even write a story or two. There are always birds in the sky, but you can see them sit in the tree tops and on top of electric lines. I never had a bird sit next to me, but there were some that flew pretty close.
The roof is one of the most peaceful places in the world and if it wasn't such a risk to go up there without my mom scolding me for ruining the shingles, I would never leave.