I never anticipated building relationships with the parents of my childhood friends. And yet, here I am, in my early thirties with two surrogate father figures who I adore and am grateful for. Funny how small this world is, and funnier that life unravels in this way. Funnier still that both of these people are named Scott.
I guess this could’ve been called the Story of Two Scotts, but maybe that’s a chapter title for a yet-to-be-written memoir. Today, I’m only talking about one Scott. Confusion avoided!