I can see all the traditional signs of fall; backpacks and lunchboxes for sale at Target, long sleeve shirts and pants at the mall, aisles and aisles of paper, pencils, markers and gadgety school supplies for sale, talk of Halloween and the 'holidays'. At home we are making our own fall preparations; Connor's birthday is in a few weeks, we have put away all the new school clothes, the kids have new shoes, and Lainy Ann will be starting Kindergarten.
But the one fall tradition I am desperately missing this year is sending my twin sons to preschool. They would be two years old if they had been born alive, but in reality they wouldn't have been born until December or January. I would have enrolled them in preschool 2 half-days a week so I could still have some alone time with them and also with Connor.
I miss not buying backpacks (would they have been matching?), lunch boxes (which character would they have chosen?), taking pictures in the classroom, and crying as they walked away on their first day of preschool.
So as fall comes again, like it does every year, and the 2nd anniversary of Katrina is upon us I am reminded of my sons who are not here. My sons who will never go to school, never take matching pictures, never wrestle with their older brother, and never wonder why fall is so hot in Southern California.