Jodi Hills

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

The bright light within.

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The light bouncing off of the freshly fallen snow was so bright. It seemed to go straight to our legs as we waited to go out for recess at Washington Elementary. We bundled. We ran, like baby Michelin men, in the snow. Rolling. Tumbling. No fear of falling. It was beautiful.

When the bell rang, we dripped into the hallway. Hung our soggy clothing on wall hooks and slumped into our desks. The teacher put on all the lights, but we still couldn’t see anything. Blinded, I suppose, by the light of all that fun.

I think maybe that’s the way of grief. Trying to adapt in this newly dimmed room. They say you will adjust. I’m still waiting. But not really — most of me doesn’t want to adjust. I want to keep that bright light within – that glorious light of my mother. The damp smell of tender tears hangs in the coat room of my heart. I sit up a little straighter, look out the window and smile. Oh what a time we had! What rolling, tumbling joy!

“All my heart ever wanted was just to come in from the cold.”

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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