Read an Excerpt from the Memoir of Former Providence Journal Columnist Rita Lussier

Photograph via Getty Images/Serhii Sobolevskyi.

Author and former longtime Providence Journal columnist Rita Lussier shares the first chapter from her memoir that serves as an emotional guide for parents facing disruptive changes as their children leave home.

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Courtesy of the author.

Four days into my dream job at an advertising agency in Providence, Rhode Island, I discovered what I’d really be doing for the next three decades. The lunchtime appointment would be just a quick walk around the corner to the clinic. The encounter would be awkward. That I knew. But I could endure anything in return for the peace of mind I’d feel once the ordeal was over. 

From out of my purse, I took the little jelly jar I’d wrapped in plastic to keep its contents — my first morning urine — from leaking. I lowered my eyes and handed it to the woman at the desk. The transaction seemed common enough. Dozens of young, anxious women came here every day. I was just another name on the appointment list. That’s what I told myself as I sat in the waiting room, apprehensively thumbing through an old issue of People.

I was not alone. A young woman wrapped in a cozy sweater sat on the other side of the table where the magazines fanned out in a spread of unlikely distractions. She looked over and smiled. “This
is my third time. Hopefully it’s a charm.”

I managed a weak nod. Then they called my name. I walked into the inner office and stood in front of another woman behind another desk, shifting back and forth in my new suit and heels until she motioned for me to sit in one of the wooden chairs. I stared at the clock on the wall, noting I’d be late returning to work.

And then, there it was. Just like that. The news rumbled out of her mouth like rolling thunder: Pregnant! 

In that one short moment, my life divided into two distinct parts. The first, when nearly everything was about me. The second, when almost nothing was.
I wasn’t ready.

Two kids, two marriages, and more than two career changes later, just as that first visit to the clinic had ushered in sudden and unforeseeable change, another moment would ring in yet another transition for me. This time, however, I knew it was coming. 

As it turned out, my preparations didn’t account for Hurricane Irene, the power outage, the last-minute packing by flashlight, the anything-that-didn’t-need-to-be-heated dinner of leftover pizza and Cheerios, all adding to the tension my husband, Ernie, and I were already feeling the night before driving our youngest child, Meredith, to New York University for the first time. But the next morning, the skies brightened, and we climbed into our car as planned, jammed to the hilt with boxes, bags and nervous excitement.

On the sidewalk in front of her dorm, the day had turned sunny, with a few fallen branches on Twelfth Street the only evidence of a storm. But the morning was anything but quiet. Students in bright blue T-shirts rolled big carts in every direction, talking and laughing as they greeted freshmen and their families, helping to unload all their belongings and ushering them into their new residence.  

Once inside Room 3C, we met Meredith’s roommate and her mother, the two of them busy unpacking and organizing. We pitched in, making beds and new acquaintances until a knock on the door summoned the two freshmen to a welcome-to-the-dorm meeting. 

After a few hugs, while we moms held back more than a few tears, our girls took off chattering down the hallway, leaving
us with nothing to do but walk away.

Ernie reached over and took my hand as we made our way to the parking garage and the 180 miles or so of highway that seemed so different than it had just a few hours before.

“Everything went well,” I said as we settled into our car and headed north toward our home in Jamestown, Rhode Island. 

“Her roommate was nice,” Ernie said.

“Meredith seemed happy.”

“Hope we hear from her later.”

“Me, too.”

As the miles rolled on, the conversation drifted off. Maybe all the packing and the unpacking, the storm and the uncertainty had taken their toll. Maybe we were tired. Or maybe we just didn’t know what to say after our youngest child was no longer tethered to our day-to-day comings and goings; her tenuous orbit suddenly ripped free from our watchful eyes. The silence between us was unexpected, but after all, this was uncharted territory. Not to worry. We’d figure it all out once we got home to what some might call an empty nest.

Some. But not me.

I open the door and realize our home is not empty after all. I am here. Ernie is here. So is our faithful, albeit somewhat crazy, black Labrador, Lizzie. And although I suspect it will take me — and us — a little time and more than a little struggle and introspection to reshape this new life, I hope you’ll join us on the next part of our journey. 

As it turns out, the woman who couldn’t quite accept the news at the clinic all those years ago, the mother who had no idea that bringing children into the world would bring her out into the world in new and unimaginable ways, the career-focused professional who never imagined that raising kids would also raise her consciousness — that woman is capable of yet another monumental and wondrous shift in her life. At least, I think I am.

And now, back to me.

Courtesy of the author.

Excerpted from And Now, Back To Me, Stories from an Empty Nest. Copyright 2025 by Rita Lussier. Used with permission of the publisher, She Writes Press, distributed by Simon & Schuster.

Meet And Now, Back to Me author Rita Lussier at one of her upcoming book signings on May 15 at 6 p.m. at Symposium Books in Providence or on May 24 at 2 p.m. at the Local Author Event at Barnes & Noble in Warwick. ritalussier.com