Sayulita  (sah-yoo-LEE-tah) is rooted in coincidence, memory, love, and gratitude. The painting was inspired by a remarkable evening on the Pacific coast of Mexico—an experience that reminded me how fragile life can be, and how unexpected grace often arrives precisely when it is needed most.

My wife Kitty passed away on February 9, 2016. During the decade that followed, I often ended my morning meditations with a simple request to the universe: "If you can see your way to it, could you please send me another Kitty."  In the spring of 2025, I met Katherine at a social dance and soon afterward was stunned to learn that her lifelong nickname—used by family and childhood friends alike—was also Kitty.

Exactly ten years—to the day—after my wife's passing, Kitty #2 and I found ourselves vacationing in the coastal town of Sayulita, Mexico. As the sun disappeared into the Pacific, I was caught in a powerful rip current and carried farther from shore than I could overcome on my own. With darkness approaching, Kitty's visage shrinking in the twilight, and no one else nearby to help, I began making peace with the very real probability that I was not going to make it.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a young surfer appeared at the top of a dune. He retrieved his board from the five surfboards that he and his buddies had lined up on the beach while they enjoyed tacos and tequila at a nearby eatery,  Kitty quickly ran to him and pointed in my direction. He immediately jumped on his surfboard, paddled out into the heavy surf, and brought me safely to shore.

When I returned to New Mexico a week later, Sayulita became the first painting I created—a meditation on gratitude, second chances, and the mysterious ways in which life occasionally answers our prayers.

• 48x48x1.5 in.
• Acrylic paint on canvas