Jodi Hills

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

Tag Archives: look up


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My measure of heart.

It’s only been a couple of days since our microwave died. It also served as the clock in our kitchen. I can’t tell you how often I look at the empty hole for the measure of the day. From the table, the stove, coming in the back door, I look. I “eye roll” my own eyes — how accustomed they were to this time. 

So how could I not think of calling you? How could you not be my first thought when I finish a painting? When I start one for that matter. Wanting to send you my progress along the way. How does my brain not look for your email responding to the morning blog? My outfit. My hopes and dreams. My damaged pinky. Or bruised feelings. Because you were my measure of time. My measure of heart. And this I can’t forget. Won’t. Don’t want to. I suppose it’s only a change of direction. I can no longer look over, but I can look up, look up and know you are still there, Mom. Here. 

Tomorrow they will deliver the new microwave. It will take a minute, but my eyes will adjust to the new normal. It will shine in the corner of our kitchen, and I will think to call you.

Forever connected.
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Looking up.

Time was about to change from Central to Mountain, and we, along with our GPS, were hovering somewhere in between.  It was 2:08pm. We had 58 miles to go to our next destination, and were expected to arrive at 2:07pm. Our Toyota had turned into a Time Machine. 

It was the smallest of towns. They didn’t have a Main Street, but they had a loop. The first directional sign said simply, Van Gogh. We looked at each other. It was spelled the same, but certainly they couldn’t have one. And we had been fooled once before — in Mississippi they have an O’Keefe Art Museum. Excited I didn’t notice the missing “f” as Georgia O’Keeffe spelled it. No, it was not Georgia, but the lesser known Jerry. 

Not wanting to be Jerried again, we followed the sign with low expectations. Looking around, Dominique said, “Well, where is it????”  Looking up I said, “Oh there it is,” pointing to the massive replica of Sunflowers on an 80 foot steel easel. Of course it wasn’t an actual Van Gogh, but it was real in the sense that it was actually there, all 40,000 pounds of it. 

Now some may have been disappointed. And having stood in front of his paintings at face level, marveling, you’d think I’d be one of them. But I wasn’t disappointed. I chose to think that maybe our Toyota really was a Time Machine, and here we stood, back in time. And loving Van Gogh as I do, this scale felt just about right.

I suppose everything is how we choose to see it. And sometimes, you just have to look up.