I should probably be sleeping, but my mind wanders as so often before. Mom's not here, and even though she's the coldest person I've ever known, in a funny way it makes me feel lonely. Lonely, and alone. My father was just lonely, he always had someone close to him. Not that it helped.
He told me about the first time he went up on the roof of his family's house. He had been trying to sleep for hours, tossing and turning over some remark from the bullies in school. It was pitch black outside, dead silent, as he cautiously sat down on the cool brick tiles. Something came over him, a mixed feeling of freedom and tranquility. He thought "what if I'd jump". Scooching down to the edge of the roof he was filled with excitement, his heart pounding heavily. The stars in the autumn sky looked like a million curious eyes, watching him, waiting for his next move. His mind wandered.
Our house also has a climbable roof.