Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…


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I thought I would feel the movement — going 200 mph on the train to Paris. I could see the landscape racing by, but it all felt so still.

When I was a child I thought that people aged at the same speed of their vehicles. My grandfather was old. And his truck was old. It seemed the only logical reason. It was rare to be alone with either one of my grandparents. There were so many children. So many grandchildren.

It was summer, late summer. The kind of day you really started noticing because you knew that the time was fleeting. My mother dropped me off to spend the day. No one else was there. It seemed delightfully strange. Almost magical. Grandma was in the kitchen. The sink was full. If Grandpa was aging along with his pick-up, Grandma was doing the same with her dishes. He put his pipe in the top pocket of his overalls, stood up from the kitchen table, and started for the door. Had it not been at my eye level, I might have missed it, but there it was, his hand, reaching back for me. He didn’t say a lot. He didn’t need to. I grabbed on.

We spent the day in his truck. Just checking things. Something in the field. Something at the neighbor’s barn. The sheds. The tools. The floor was scattered with soy beans. Greens and golds lined the fields as we drove through. I put my hand out the open window. I held my palm in line with the passing crops. The wind raced through my fingers and I felt like I held it all – held it all within me. The radio muttered something about the price of grain. I couldn’t hear it over the sweet sound of my Grandfather smiling at me. The sweet sound that said without words, “Everything is going to be ok. This is all for you. You know that. You know that I love you.” I smiled because I did. I did know that. The grains flew by the windows, but my heart felt still.

I was so excited. I had wanted to see Paris forever. And to arrive by train! Next to the one I loved. The romance of it all… None of it felt fast. Not in the moment. Maybe that’s time’s greatest gift – not letting us feel the speed. Watching the French landscape, I could hear that familiar smile. I felt love. I felt still.

Look out your window. This is the kind of day to start noticing. This is all for you.

Author: jodihills

I am an author and an artist, originally from the US, now living, loving and creating in the south of France. I show my fine art throught the US and Europe, and sell my books, art and images throughout the world.

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