Permanent Travelers

They had finally made it. The air smelled sweet, the breeze from the sea felt cool, and the people were inviting.

It had all started a long time ago, when he had proposed that in a couple years, they should pack up and move spontaneously to another courty. Europe, Asia, where ever it may be. They'd just choose one. Throw what they needed - some close, money, passports, in a bag, and just go.

After three planes, twenty four hours, and numerous cups of coffee, they found themselves in their new home on the coast. Well, not exactly home since they hadn't found one yet, but this was it. As soon as they pulled in, there was just something instantly magical about it. The lightness of the air, the doughy smell from the bakeries, the saltiness of the sea, the old weathered couples that walked down the narrow cobblestone streets together - they knew they had found their spot.

They had both done the corporate grind. Long hours, regimented days, cubicles, coffees in disposable cups. Sure, it was monotonous, but they both led good lives. Money was never an issue, nether were friends, or entertainment. Something had just seemed off. Too familiar.

As they sat there, holding hands, staring at the inlet - they were both thinking the same thing. Being scared wasn't an option. I didn't know the language. They didn't have a residence. Their money was no good here. Friends and family were on the other side of the world. They were stuck here for the time being.

Yet, strangely, both were the happiest they could remember.