Have you ever considered how important roofs are? Or how lucky you are to be living under one (which you are if you're reading this post)?
It's been a really cold week in Philadelphia, and every time I leave my building, I realize how lucky I am to be living in a building. With a roof at the top.
There's a Starbucks right under my building, and every morning I walk through it to go outside. The moment I push open the heavy doors, the wind hits my face, watering my eyes, and really waking me up. By the time I reach my destination after about ten minutes of walking, I feel like my fingers and toes are about to fall off, and can't feel my ears or nose. And this is when I'm dressed in 3 layers, with a below-the-knee super puffy coat, boots, gloves, and a headband.
Then, at the end of the day, I travel the same path back home and count the steps until I reach for the door of that same Starbucks, and walk into the cozy, fresh coffee-smelling warmth of the store.
Right outside that same Starbucks where busy people work on their laptops while sipping their cappuccinos, lives a man. He's been there ever since I moved to this building. He's there almost every morning and every night when I walk in and out of that Starbucks, and he lies, barely moving, on the sidewalk.
And there isn't a roof above his head.
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