It's Not Summer Without You (Summer, #2)

by Jenny Han

Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty.

It was one of the last times I remember them being happy. I really wish I had enjoyed it more.