Peace and stillness wash over me as I take my first step onto the roof that night. It’s dark, but you can still see the outlines of the oaks and the lindens, which gracefully ark over my roof. Somehow, my almost constant trips out there have replaced the original vertigo with quiet content. Taking a breath of the fresh night air, I lie down on the cold shingles and stare up at the stars.
It’s so easy to get lost in the wondrous sky. I feel so small, so insignificant, that it’s always enticing to stare at the stars. Lost. Maybe lost is the wrong word. Free. My soul feels free when I lie on the roof. If you focus well enough, you can block out the trees, and just stare up at the stars. Almost, for a split second, you could be anywhere, staring up at the sky. Free, but lost at the same time.
I grew up in a house in the woods. The trees and the brooks were my playthings, and the quiet was my friend. Lying down in a patch of new green grass, I would stare up at the sky and think, “The world is mine, and the sky is watching.” Even then, on those clear cloudless days, I would get lost in the sky, wasting my hours away.
It’s not a new thing, for me to stare at the sky. It seems so routine now, to feel free, and somewhat misplaced. Staring up at the vastness of the stars, a tree branch in your view, you could be anywhere, because the sky never changes. Be in
The wind blows, and the linden tree sways. The broken street light flashes on once, and then turns right back off. For that split second I see the outline of my hand, and the few other houses, with their own trees. This is where I’ve grown up, for the past few years. Where I’ve found myself. And as I think, I smile; I’m glad that I still have the sky. I would never give that life-long freedom away. No matter where I am, my peace will follow in the dark of the night. It’s where I fit, where I feel that I belong, staring up at the stars, into the clear