WeÕre heading out on a family vacation and the only good way to describe my familyÕs experience is with a storm. Mom, is like the rain, always there with her storm. Six-year-old Dallas is like the thunder, constantly yelling about something. Sometimes all you want is for him to shut up. Fifteen-year-old Brooklyn is like the lightning. She is perfect, cool, bright, and she always has some opinion on whatever is happening. Dad is like the rainbow. Not always there, but when he is, it is awesome. Then there is me, thirteen-year-old Kamri. I do not really take on one of these roles. Each of them is in me, just a little bit. In our car, it is like a little bitty thunderstorm.