Jodi Hills

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

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In a flash


I took a photograph as ’21 turned into ’22. I shook the image into view. Winter turned to spring before my eyes, and petals fell from trees. Pinks turned into greens. Splashes in sun-warmed water sounded like promises. I put sleeves on tanned shoulders, and never dreamed goodbyes would have to be said to love that fell from the tree that gave life. Bundled and braced. Memories wintered my soul in the white of the photograph — the photograph made not with a click of shutter, but the blink of an eye. The same blink that opened ’23. 

Open lens. Open heart. Smile! I’m just getting started.