To the man the myth the legend:

Your awkward texts and whimsical snapchats make me miss seeing your face every day, but when I’m home we don’t do much but play golf. And that’s okay. Or we go to concerts together, that’s always fun. But what I love most about you is your ability to be weird with me. You’ve cultured me in more ways than one, or five, or twenty, but what I appreciate the most about you is our unwritten, unspoken rapport.

I love walking in and seeing you in your stupid underwear because God forbid you wear pants in the house. I love walking downstairs when I’m home for the summer at 4 A.M. and find you watching some random documentary about mermaids that is absolutely true, might I add, and we end up watching it two times in a row together.

I don’t really know how to describe our relationship, but I wouldn’t be me without it.

You’re the weirdest guy I know, and we really don’t talk as much as I’d like to, but I trust you more than anyone. You are my stability, and for whatever reason, no matter how stupid you’re acting in public, the embarrassment passes for pride.

I am proud to tell people about you and all that you’ve permeated through in your exciting hippie lifetime. I find myself attracted to people who remind me of you, and who embody traits and styles that you represent. Even more, I am attracted to people who represent your morals and beliefs that have shaped me into who I am.

You have taught me to be a sponge, question authority, and trust my gut.

You are the weirdest and goofiest old dude, but man, I don’t ever want to go a day without you, even though I have to.

I want you to know how much you mean to me, and I know we don’t express our feelings as much as some might, but you mean absolutely everything to me.

Love you longtime, Rich.

LC

(eyes emoji, heart emoji, poop emoji).