Musings & Photography by Ingrid

From California to Sweden Her Thoughts & Photo’s Captivate – Ingrid Rodman-Holmes (@ingridkrodman) • Instagram photos and videos

All Photo’s by Ingrid Rodman-Holmes

Alone Together

Here we are alone, sheltered and isolated in our homes with only ourselves to rely on for entertainment, while a virus has us in its grip. Endless broadcasts, online newspapers and alerting text messages rant on about death rates, melting glaciers and toilet paper hoarding as we sit square eyed and unable to pull ourselves away from our technological pacifiers. The ignition is unable to turn over into satisfying activity. I remember when being bored was a good thing or being told that rocks and pinecones were good toys. There were days I would bake with my sons or pull out the felt tip pens as a special treat. Some days we would read aloud to one another, other times to ourselves. Most magically we would spend time looking into each other’s eyes speaking about the day’s events and even….get ready…feelings! In our homes we turn away from each other. Alone in outerspace and cyberland. Drinking the milk of ongoing talking heads and grabbing our phones as soon as a silent moment befalls us. Even at dinner, while on skype in the midst of something socially nourishing we unbond and detach, leaving our friend alone in the cold. What of searching our beloveds face for signs of joy and pain or the flickering eyelids of thought on a question? Do we see our babies curiosity, the cats flickering tail, the beauty of a flower about to burst into bloom on a walk along a silent path? This time is for us to use wisely. We can develop our hobbies, bake a cake, take a walk or do home projects that nourish that which has been left to wither in the busyness of our lives. How sweet to observe with honor and love the one we are with rather than to feel the torrential emptiness of being alone together.

Another day, another road trip. I pull onto the road, pop a chocolate in my mouth and the perfect music set ensues. As the candy melts, I sing along with the lyrics of love to Before The Last Teardrop Falls. Choked up I gain strength and wail along with Linda Ronstadt as loud as I can to, You’re No Good. A sip of water, I clear my throat then time to lean into Your So Vain. Carly Simon and I agree loudly for the thousandth time. I sing with hypnotic indignity. We know what we mean. Then a scent of warm pine forest to Let’s Stay Together. The sun shines strong, and clouds float the blue sky. I am man, woman, cheater, cheated, in love, out of it and back again wondering Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? All in a 5-hour drive.

I like to walk to work in the crisp morning, passing frost coated brittle branches, slush mixed canals and orange skies promising sun. Each face sweeping past a story- rich, poor, geeky, gaudy, gentle and graceful told by the curve of a lip, the wrinkle of a brow. In the tired expressions-exaltation, disappointment, ponderance, arrogance and nonchalance. I wonder what my face says after a sleepless, dreamless night, one of many different nights, in a long life. 

Jag tycker om att promenera till jobbet.  I den krispiga morgonen passerar jag frosttäckta och spröda grenar, slushiga kanaler och oranga himmel som lovar sol. Varje ansikte som sveper förbi berättar en historia- rik, fattig, töntig, prålig, mjuk och graciös som avslöjas av läpparnas kurvor eller brynens rynka.  I de trötta uttrycken- stort glädje, besvikelser, betänksamhet, arrogans och nonchalans. Jag undrar vad mitt uttryck avslöjer om mig efter en sömnlös, drömlös natt, en av många olika nätter under ett långt liv.

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