“Slug bug, no backs!” We shouted it as kids, upon seeing a Volkswagen Beetle, playfully punching the person next to us. And it’s funny, we abided by the rules of this simple game. If the person said “no backs,” well, then that was it. Forward we went.

Maybe that was the romance of it all. The simplicity. The playful trust in what was. I remember hearing over and over through the years, when asking life questions about finding a career, doing what you love, following your dream, or falling in love… , the answer was inevitably, “you’ll just know.”

And I did, for the most part. Sure, I stumbled, faltered, in all of it. But I knew I was an artist. And I got there. True love took a little longer.

I must have walked by, biked by, drove by the VW bug for sale on the side of the road on Hopkins Boulevard. There was a romance to it, I suppose. Maybe it was the artist in me, the hopeful heart waiting, but it always made me smile — slug bug!, I said, and kept on dreaming.

Maybe it isn’t obvious, but perhaps the most romantic painting I have done is of the blue Volkswagen. It is entitled, “Something in my heart told me to wait for you.” When I fell in love and moved to France, it was indeed because “I just knew.” My playful heart said go — and forward I went. Forward we continue. Joyfully, no backs!