When I was young at the lake, I would spend hours looking for the perfect rock to skip. There were many different shapes and sizes, but I was looking for one that was light and flat. I would hear the water crashing upon the shore, and always hoped for a day with no waves, so I could skip a perfect stone.

When I was young at the lake, I would see my brother, not far from me, picking up the biggest stone he could find. He would toss it into the water, making a huge splash and getting us wet. The air was cooler on my face, and I had a sweater on, but my hood was down. I rolled up my sleeves, getting ready to skip my first stone. My brother and I would make a competition of who could skip their stone the most times.

When I was young at the lake, I would walk along the shore, hand in hand with my mother. I would pick up every shell I could find, and often find some bigger than my hands. My brother would show me all the shells he found; sometimes we would even find fossils. I
remember I would make jewellery with the shells and stones I brought home.

When I was young at the lake, I remember my dad playing with me and my brother in the water, splashing around with us. The three of us would play catch with a football, and my dad would teach us how to throw. Afterwards, my mom would get me and my brother cold lemonades to enjoy by the water.

When I was young at the lake, I always remember each year that we came back, making the lake a special place and a highlight. I love remembering friends, remembering family, remembering fun, at the lake.