“You Know What Would Be Fun?”

It always starts the same way.

“Hey, you know what would be fun?” I turn to my sister Jenny with a mischievous grin. We are young, maybe seven or eight, sharing a bath. She is behind me, trying to soak in some warmth and peace. I am in front, in charge of the faucet. I let the water drain, then crank the cold full blast.

Jenny stares at me in horror.

“Listen,” I say, “if we ever get caught in the freezing waters of Antarctica, we need to know how to survive. So let’s practice now!”

That twinkle in my eye, the one that still shows up whenever a crazy idea takes hold, sparkles back at her. She does not argue. She just shivers in silence, enduring me.

⸻

A couple years later, walking home from school, I hit her with it again. We are at the top of a hill about half a mile from home.

“You know what would be fun? If you run home, grab the bike, and ride it back up here, then we can both fly down this hill together. Now go!”

Off she runs. She comes back, panting, with the bike. Of course I steer, and of course she is balanced somewhere awkwardly on the frame. But when we are flying downhill, wind in our faces, it feels epic. (At least for me).

⸻

Fast-forward twenty years. I am 28, Jenny is 27, and we are back on Kauai visiting.

“You know what would be fun?” I ask.

Jenny narrows her eyes. She knows what is coming.

“Let’s hike up Sleeping Giant, drink sake at the top, and I’ll take photos of you for a painting. You will be my muse.”

She reluctantly agrees.

We climb the mountain. At the top, the view is breathtaking. We sip sake, talk, laugh, and take photos. But then it hits us. We have about 15 minutes of daylight left, and it is a 45-minute hike down.

Uh oh.

We scramble. Darkness swallows the trail. I panic.

“This is bad. We are going to have to sleep here. What about wild pigs? I cannot do this! I was supposed to meet someone about a commission! Jenny, this is really bad.”

Jenny says nothing. She just keeps walking, almost running, somehow knowing the way. I follow her, moaning and groaning, filling the silence with every fear that crosses my mind.

And then, suddenly, we are almost at the bottom. Lights appear. Relief floods in.

“Oh my god, that was amazing, Jenny! How did you do that? You are incredible. Best day ever!”

Just like that, my rambling flips from disaster to triumph without missing a beat. Jenny endures the switch.

By the time we make it to Sushi Bushido, I have already rewritten the story in my head as an epic adventure. Jenny just looks at me with that face, the face she has been making since childhood, the same one in the above photo after we finally reached the restaurant. The face of someone who has endured a lifetime of,

“Hey, you know what would be fun?”

“Sleeping Giant”, oil on canvas, 16”x20”