I inhale. There is nothing like the smells of a summer evening on the lake. The scent of pine and firewood mingle with the smell of water. I turn and smile at Sonny, who is also sniffing the air.

Dragonflies flitter across the still water, darting off as the Adie Lou approaches.

I look over at Evan, his knuckles still white. He refuses to look anywhere but forward although only a few boats are returning up the river and back to their slips.

“Breathe,” I say.

Evan exhales, a mix of a sigh and a laugh. “This is Grampa’s boat,” he says. “I just don’t want to mess it up.”

I reach over and rub my son’s shoulder. “He would be so proud of you,” I say. “You’re a good captain.” I stop. “You’re an even better person.”

Evan turns to me and smiles like a little kid. “Mom,” he says softly.

“I mean it,” I say. “I don’t say it enough.”

“I feel the same about you,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say. “That means the world.”

I do have a good kid, I think, my heart swelling with pride.

I know it sounds corny, but it’s true. I have so many friends whose kids have not only caused them heartaches and headaches, but also don’t seem to appreciate their parents. Evan not only works hard to be a success and a good person, but he also acknowledges the sacrifices made by me and Nate as well as his grandparents. That is rare.

“I’m a little nervous about taking this out on the big lake, Mom,” Evan says as we head down the channel.

I can see the opening into Lake Michigan. There is a northwest wind, and it has turned the big water choppy.

“Why don’t you just park in the party cove?” I ask.

Evan looks relieved, and heads the boat out of the channel and into a big circle of water, which is tucked into the shoreline and protected by the dunes. This is the spot where boats moor every pretty summer day, and people hop from boat to boat and party. Tonight, only a sailboat and pontoon are moored, and the party cove is peaceful.

Evan stops the boat in the middle of the cove, away from the other boats.

“Do we need to anchor?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” I say. “It’s dead calm here. Let’s just sit for a few minutes and have dinner.”

I’ve packed a small basket of sandwiches, chips and fruit for us, and a baggie of dry food for Sonny. I hand Evan a sparkling water and open one for myself, filling a collapsible water bowl for Sonny. We eat in silence and watch the fishermen come back in from a day on the lake.