There isn’t any one thing that stands out from summer; we planted a tree, played baseball, watched the moon rise one late August night through the telescope he got for Christmas last year, spent days swimming or not swimming, but on the lake, digging in the sandy dirt, running, laughing, eating one dollar fudgesicles at 3PM when Ice Cream Pat rang the small bell on the wall of the shack where she sells ice cream and soda and small bags of pretzels and corn chips. But it all adds up, I hope, to something memorable, for him.