Jodi Hills

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


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Flung.

She ran up to me in the checkout line in Menards with the exuberance of an airport pick-up. (If you’re old enough to remember when you could meet someone at their gate and greet them as they got off the plane and entered back into your world.) Arms flung around each other as if no time had passed, or perhaps to gather in all the time that had. Either way, it worked. I was wrapped and cuddled by this girl of my schools days, this bundle of youth, this Jenny, and it was delightful!

It was only a few minutes. She needed to return to all the others wanting to “save big money…” and I needed to become an adult again. But what a trip. A trip back to high school halls filled with laughter and hope and running. A trip to the colors of red and black uniforms – cheering, competing, becoming…


Moments. Gifts. So easily given. Without cost. Forever priceless. Today is another chance to give. To receive. I greet the morning with arms flung! Thank you, Jenny!