I’ve been anticipating this winter, thinking it will be a hard one: five seems such a milestone.

Fall 2011 was a beautiful season. A season of hope and thrilled waiting, talking with my nearly three year old about her baby sister and all we’d do together as a family.

Fall 2016, five years on, has been one of the rainiest on record. It rained 28 days in October. I feel it as both a burden and a gift. Winter seems to have started too soon with the low grey skies and constant damp, but also there have been no cheery crisp fall days to taunt me with memories of the season spent so long ago now.

I feel the low hum of anxiety starting up…the questions about what we will do to honour her short existence, her place in our family, begin to pile up at the back of my consciousness. I never know what do do, and I’m sure I won’t this year.

Five.

A sign has been posted at M’s daycare: kindergarten registration for all children born in 2012.

Not all children born in 2012, I think silently every time I pass it on the way in, on the way out. It will be there through this long grey wet winter, quietly reminding me: Five.

Sending love to all the babies born in 2012 who like my Anja are not registering for kindergarten this year. May five be as gentle as it can be on your parents.

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