The Night I Painted the Town

Her ad said: “No experience necessary. Anyone can do it! It’s fun art, not fine art!”

I passed up several opportunities to go to an open paint night during that year, because I was in the middle of my too-busy life to be bothered. Besides that, I never considered myself a painter, much less a “real” artist. I thought of myself as more the crafty, hot glue gun queen, paint a wall, re-arrange the furniture, decorator type. Even so, the opportunity for me to go kept coming back around like a revolving door. I clearly remember the night when I finally decided to just give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen? I remember thinking. And so, I headed out to “Paint The Town.”

As I pulled into the parking lot, I could see through the big plate-glass storefront. There were brightly painted walls and paintings everywhere. It looked happy. It looked fun, but I still wasn’t convinced that this was for me. If I hadn’t been meeting another friend there, honestly, I might have just turned around and left. I took a deep breath, put my hand on the door, and pushed it open. I stepped inside, not really expecting much out of the experience. I walked in to “Paint The Town” expecting a painting lesson. What I walked away with was so much more.

“Hi, I’m Bev,” she said with a big smile and a bubbly, southern accent. I had never met her before that night, but I knew within minutes, maybe even seconds, that we had a special connection. We were kindred spirits. We were soul mates. Nooo, not soul mates of the marrying kind, but of the soul sister kind. I have many friends, but very few people in my life that I consider my true soul mates.

I had a stroke of serendipity that evening. I fell in love. I fell in love with my paintbrush and canvas and I fell in love with the feeling I had while painting. For the next 4 hours, time stood still and I drifted off to a happy place that I didn’t know existed. I am by nature a happy person, but this was a different kind of happy. It came from a deeper place. It was a peace and a stirring all at the same time. It was freedom. That night there was a shift and a door opened up in more ways than one. I could feel it. That night I was actually introduced to two people. One was Bev Selby and the other one was . . . me.

I went back almost every night. Over the next couple of months, Bev and I talked for hours, and painted our hearts out. We had lifetimes to catch up on and not much time to do it. I was moving overseas very soon. Our friendship developed over a few weeks instead of many years, even though it felt like I had known her forever. We shared ideas, experiences, stories, beliefs and differences. She encouraged me to follow my dreams and to be brave. We shared many good times and a few bad times. Sometimes we shared wine out of a box, Chipotle burrito bowls, and Chick-Fil-A fries.

Ironically enough, we both had kids the same age that graduated from the same high school, similar values and vision for connecting with people, and love for adventure and living life. Our prior professional backgrounds were similar and even our wedding anniversary fell on the same date, month, and year! We were 40-something-year-old women, soon to be empty nesters, trying to help our college age kids figure out life and at the same time trying to figure out our own. We were moms. We were wives. We were creative. We were brave. We were determined.

Our friendship has grown over the last 2 years. By now we’ve shared our homes, survived fires, and patched up broken hearts. We’ve grieved deaths, celebrated marriages, welcomed new puppies and well… the list goes on. Our kids have become friends and it gives me comfort to know she is there for my own children when I'm so far away. We live on opposite sides of the world for the time being, but I know some day our paths will cross again in some adventurous way.

When I think back to that night and how it is connected to where I am now on my creative journey, I keep coming back to the opening of the door. I love doors. I have a thing for doors. I’ve collected doors throughout my travels and even have them hanging on the walls in my home. I’m reminded of my collection of doors today, but in a different way. I reflect on how many doors have opened up to me in my lifetime. How many of those open doors did I have the courage to step inside of and commit to walking through, and where have they taken me? I wonder how many I’ve simply walked past without giving notice. How many did I bravely push wide open and how many have slammed shut for one reason or another?

I’m so grateful I opened “Paint The Town’s” door and stepped inside. I walked in and found a happy place. I discovered a whole new world of freedom, playing in paint, expressing my thoughts and emotions through art and connection. A place where I realized that I am an artist and that art is a metaphor for life. It’s also where I found a beautiful friend.

I will always remember walking through that door as a life changing beginning for me. Since that day, I’ve continued to encounter doors while walking my path, one leading to another. I am reminded not to just collect doors but to actively open doors in life and take a peek inside. Maybe even take a step inside. You just never know what surprises you might find waiting.