Poke. Poke. Poke! “Stop…hitting me!” I impatiently requested of my wide-eyed 7-year-old brother. I squeezed my shoulders in tighter to avoid contact with my other brother’s car seat. The vehicle was cramped enough without having a small child trying their best to find the open spaces between your ribs. In an effort to take my mind off of the activity going on beside me, I turned as far to the left as my seat belt would allow. The tip of my nose found its resting place on a cold, hard window and my breath made a circular spot right underneath. I stared for a moment. Raindrops had started sliding down the glass. Since it seemed that there was nothing better to do, I watched them make their peculiar paths.