We’re taking a little drive, the three of us, and we tour the lake, admiring the new houses being built and watching the seagulls landing and lifting and imagining where we would put our house should we decide to become lake people.

Husband and I in the front, and youngest boy in the back and the other boys away doing their summer things.

Can I get out and ride in front?ย he asks.

There’s no room, I say.

I mean, can I get out and ride on the hood? Please? It will be fun.

I look back at him and laugh, remembering the time my friends and I rode in the back of the old pickup truck, all the way into town and back. And I say, sure.

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He jumps out and climbs up and we drive slow. He’s swatting mosquitoes and I think its nice to be inside and out of them, the radio on and the world outside. It’s nice and cozy, and cozy is just perfect sometimes.

But in watching him through the dirty, bug-splattered windshield, I think. really, he has the best view.

Twelve years old and the world ahead, and I hope he spends as much time outside in it allย as he does inside and cozy.

He’s King of the Lake, riding the hood, and the future looks fine.

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