It happens every year. Summer comes to a close, the evening air is cooler, vacation time is over, the neighbor children appear at the bus stop at 8:15 a.m. each weekday. It makes me sad. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for each breath I take and love my life most days, but I mourn the passing of Summer and have done so for 50 years. Actually, I can trace this feeling back to when I started 2nd grade. I love the heat and the humidity and the sand in my shoes.