A first birthday. A #1 beeswax candle sits proudly on a homemade banana mini cupcake frosted with yogurt. A mother, my daughter prepared this birthday treat with thought and care. I marvel as I reflected on how my daughter had championed pregnancy and new motherhood during Covid-19. A first grandchild. A granddaughter. We quietly celebrated pandemic style…

Easy to smile. Brown eyes that sparkle. Fine light-colored hair exhibiting the possibility of curls.

A hint of her voice noted as her words begin to form. Two teeth visible with more trailing behind. Arms extend in my direction. My heart. She is…


To Pause, To Wait …To Observe

A six-hour traffic filled drive tested our resolve as we journeyed from Cape Cod back to the Green Mountain State. The fleeting exhilaration of vacation had passed with each mile traveled. Two weeks of memories packed blissfully away. Our little yellow house sat quietly on the hill upon approach. The gravel crackled under the weight of our car as we wound our way up the drive. Home. Our adopted home…

A brownish black puffy furred coyote stood firmly in place just yards away from the far side of our small house. Stance, firm. Poised…


My granddaughter sat on my lap upon arriving at our Cape Cod vacation house. Belle is just seven days shy of a year. I discovered a soft swirl of fine baby hair on the crown of her head. A cowlick passed down from her mother. A genetic link to her grandmother. A great grandfather who battled the same swirl. My father smiled down upon us. My heart was full.

I stole a moment and walked towards the beach late one afternoon during our stay. Time spent by the ocean felt wonderfully renewing. I found my way down the short path…


I believe William Segal may have “rearranged my molecules” too…

The grass wet with dew. Temperatures in the low 50’s. A waning summer morning in Vermont. Quiet and still. Breathing was shallow and quick as I reminded myself to relax. To breathe. Staying present while refusing to allow the abundance of “breaking news” to mentally chase me down the gravel driveway. I closed the door to my house with a firmness that would keep the overwhelming headlines contained in my cable box for at least the duration of my run. One foot in front of the other despite the surrounds…


Waiting for the Pandas to Dance…

A broad smile greeted me from the top of an urban cement staircase. The newly painted black front door opened just enough for my daughter to emerge while holding her daughter. Tiny fists tightly and spontaneously were drawn up to my granddaughter’s mouth. Pure excitement squealed through the warm summer afternoon air. She recognized me. She knew me. I am her Gram. The faces. Their smiles. The rest of the world melted away…

Life of an eleven-month-old is busy. Life of a parent of an eleven-month-old is about doing. Meeting needs. Keeping the baby…


The flowers have wilted. Family and friends have returned to their prospective homes. A pleasant fatigue has settled in both mentally and physically. Accomplishment and relief have replaced worry and hesitation. Photographs have been taken. Memories made. Months of wedding planning 2020. Replanned for 2021. Two and a half years of wondering and juggling plans. Some ill-fated. A micro wedding for my son and his wife was held last sometime in 2020 with a celebration planned for this July.

Happiness was carried in by the warm summer air encompassing the wedding venue just over a week ago. The wedding flowers…


I quietly sit at my Vermont butternut writing desk early this day. A welcome steady rain falls outside my studio window. The woods, green and lush. A morning to ponder by the warm glow of my grandfather’s “vintage” desk lamp. “Vintage” felt uncomfortably familiar this gray morning. A small face with expressive brown eyes peeks around my word document as I typed. A recent photo of my 10-month-old granddaughter not yet saved on my laptop lines the outside left boarder. A precious face greets me. A visual reminder of how she is never far from my thoughts.

Pure joy. Joyful…


First Cut is Significant…

Walking with a friend on local trails, delightful. We pass through newly cut hay fields while we fill in the blanks of the many pandemic months. The hay catches our shoes, snaps under the weight while its aroma fills the Friday afternoon air. Detours to see the river as we steal a moment or two to take it all in. Our conversation quiets like the river below us. Mallards in flight. Vermonting.

My drive to and from passes a number of fields. One after the other. Round hay bales wrapped in white plastic while rectangular bales…


Fireflies Shine Brightly Against the Darkness of Night…

The humbling rumble of nature recently occupied the night. Storms settled in over the Vermont hills and mountains. Circled overhead. Stillness interrupted as was our quiet and our rest.

Fear filled the darkness of the night. The dog panted in distress. Nervously he paced. My heart raced. Electricity unpredictably flashed across the sky. Lightening vivid. Thunder echoed

throughout the Pomfret hills. The storm returned again and again. What seemed like endless hours was in fact, not.

Once the storm finally waned my 14-year-old dog was slow to calm. Caution unified us. A…


What is it About This Thing We Call Change?

The world, our individual lives have been on a trajectory of change for the past many months. Change has been our constant. Dependable in its uncertainty. Lives forever changed. Lives lost. A pandemic. We are now beginning to return to what we once knew. There is good and bad in that…

We are crawling out of our bunkers and returning to the world. Our communities. Our work. Our social lives. Our families. How have we changed? What is the residual from our collective experience? A “new normal? …

Elizabeth Ricketson

A graduate of Providence College with a BA in English, Elizabeth Ricketson has always had a love of literature and the fine arts.

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