for adults, probably.My best childhood friend was the very first love of my life—a type of producer, watching me “hit all my milestones”—milestones no one else was capable of seeing. It’s been like gardening, which is to say, like watching paint dry. But more than that, it’s like one old tree watching another old tree grow up beside it, two saplings with overlapping circles of memory, a shared soil and a shared language. And over the years—it just happened to fall this way, against odds—I’ve come to think of her dad as one of my remaining father figures, here and...