A glimpse into Ritzville, personal reflections

I didn’t grow up in Ritzville in the traditional sense, but the city is still is dear to my heart.

It makes me think of cold Popsicle juice dripping down my hand as I walk home from the pool on a Thursday night during an extended summer break at my grandparents’ house by the tennis court. It makes me think of the smell of dirt that wafts in the air during harvest time and the constant sneezing from the wheat germ in the air. It makes me think of home.

My husband, son and I moved here from Spokane last year to get reacquainted with the town. My husband recently fulfilled his dream of becoming a...