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I used to live in a small box. The lid blew open and rain came in. My things got wet, but the sun came out and dried me. It was Nebraska. Corn grew on both sides of the road, and every few hundred feet, there were patches of thistle. I used to love to roll in the thistle, but it made me itch in the summertime, after I'd go to bed, when the fireflies came out.I used to think it was so unfair that the older kids got to stay up, but I looked out the window, with my bedroom door closed and drifted a hundred miles away, with the fireflies.