We were stuck in the middle of the lake. Lake Lansing. This was Saturday and we’d had enough wind for the sailboat to show off and take us over sandbars and fish and water that felt warm because Lake Michigan had been so cold last week.
But the wind was shy so there we were, Sarah, Tom, and I—three-fourths of the Small Things adults—leaning back against the sides of the borrowed boat. We were like the bobber on the end of both fishing poles I’ve ever held: closer to still than actually bobbing. I had only been sailing once before—and I use that phrase to mean “I sat in the boat while my friend Sarah captained like a boss.” This time, she and her husband instructed me to pull a rope a couple times, so … “I sailed a boat” is now something I can put on my life’s resume.