**The whistles began, birds chirping at the break of dawn. Singing in a way that set Philip's heart soaring the moment his eyes opened. Crisp rain filtered in through the cracked van window, the sun just warm enough to make waking in the cramped space bearable. Droplets of rain cascaded down the glass like a trail of happiness, searching for a place to call home.**

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**Yet Philip didn’t have one. Not really. **

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**Each morning was different, as was where he ended up. Though the feeling was always the same when the wind beat against his hand as he drove down the highway. **

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**A grin tugged at his lips. He had freedom.**

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**Rising to his hands, he yawned and scratched his grey beard, reaching for the metal handle toward the back. He pushed until both doors swung wide. Lush green mountains stared back, pale streaks of dawn glimmering in the distance.**

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**There was nothing like it––traveling the world. And today he’d drive for eight hours, from forested highways to the coastal plains. Back roads to paved ones.**

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**He wanted to see the ocean. Something he’d dreamed of since he was a boy, and he was finally making it happen. It had only taken him forty-five years.**

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**Even if it meant quitting a well paying job––a career that had slowly drained the life out of him. He had it all then, and he hated it. **

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**Now he called a creaky old van his home––a small, aired bed and cramped sleeping. No bathroom or space to breathe. He’d learned to eat what he could find, mostly sticking to overcooked gas station food when he passed through. And if he was lucky, a local diner. **

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**A vast difference compared to his life before, yet nothing made him feel the way living in a van did. It was like he could finally breathe for the first time in his life. **

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**And he’d never go back.**