About halfway up the coast to Santa Barbara a few weeks ago, we all got out of the car to take some pictures and walk on the beach. I demanded a picture with my older brother Paul as I have no idea if a picture exists of just the two of us as adults. I mean. Surely it does. But…where?

We took a nice solid smiley shot and then I demanded a JUMP FOR JOY shot as those seem to be my favorite types of pictures lately. Tom was holding the camera and instead of counting down 1, 2, 3, JUMP so we could synchronize the jumping with the clicking of the camera, Tom just said, “Go.”

And we were all, WHAT?

And he was like GO GO and then started counting and screaming GO and just YELLING at us because he is certifiably insane.

This resulted in about 14 pictures of Paul and me 1) about to jump 2) already back on the ground after jumping 3) looking awkward and confused.

See also, this picture, where Paul has landed and I look like I’m peeing:

And this one where we finally stopped jumping up and down like idiots and yelled at Tom to FREAKING COUNT TO THREE BECAUSE THIS IS RIDICULOUS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

And wouldn’t you know it! When you finally countdown and jump and click simultaneously, you get An Awesome Jumping Siblings Picture that needs to be framed and hung in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

SRSLY.

I love these pictures so much. Every time I look at them, I’m reminded of the day we spent driving up the coast of California together, how we stopped to jump like idiots for the camera, how we ate sushi for lunch, how Paul and I took a walk to the pier and talked and talked and talked both as if we had never met each other before and as if we have known each other for our entire lives.

Naturally, that last part is true. Kind of cool to think that Paul has known me for all but 22 months of his life when he was a blissfully unaware only child without a younger sister. Then, BAM! I came along and demanded we build igloos out of snow and forts in the backyard and watch TGIF on Friday nights and stay up late listening to the Top 10 songs on 106.1 WBLI on his portable radio. And that we take pictures jumping in the air because DAMNIT THAT IS WHAT I WANT TO DO.

I like to think that these things have only improved Paul’s life and not taken anything away from it or made it worse.

That’s how I feel, of course, when I think about being his sister. How it is sort of INSANE that when I say, I’m going to LA for Thanksgiving! and someone says I’M GOING TOO! SEE YOU THERE! and that someone is my older brother, I totally freak out and get ridiculously excited because he’s one of my favorite people on the planet and what are the chances of that? That I’m still all, LET’S TAKE A WALK TO THE PIER AND LAUGH AND LAUGH AND FROLIC TOGETHER and Paul will be all OKAY! YEAH! partly because he wants to and partly because if he says no, I will kick his ASS.

I guess I’m sort of floored that my siblings are people that I’d want to be friends with even if they weren’t related to me. That I thought they were awesome growing up but I think they’re even AWESOMER now. Probably because they buy me stuff. But also probably because when I was walking to the pier with Paul, scooping frozen yogurt into my mouth, talking about life and love and the way the California fog was hovering over the mountains in the distance, I felt like I couldn’t be happier or more content, that even though sometimes I wish we were still in our pajamas, lying on our stomachs listening to the Top 10 on the radio, most of the time I wish we could just take a walk together every day. How happy that would make me. How perfect it would be.