My kids saw their school burn down on TV. They're more worried about friends who lost their homes.

• Mom Lisa Ward lives in Topanga, between Palisades and Malibu, where the LA wildfires are raging.
• Her family was horrified when they saw TV images of their local high school burning to the ground.
• While her 17-year-old won't get the graduation he hoped for, his priority is to help homeless friends.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lisa Ward, 59, a stay at home mom from Topanga, California. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Our family is sheltering in Topanga, a canyon region between Palisades and Malibu that is being ravaged by California wildfires.

The generator turns on and off at random, but we're glued to the local TV news whenever we can be. On Tuesday — when the fires struck our area — my oldest son, Luc, 19, jumped up from the couch.

"That's the high school," he shouted, pointing to the footage of the flames and billowing smoke consuming the campus. "There's the locker building, the baseball field, and the football stadium — they're all burning."

We were in shock. We'd been in the stadium for Luc's graduation from Palisades Charter High School in 2023 and were proudly looking forward to sitting in the bleachers for his 17-year-old brother Cole's graduation in June.

Our youngest, Theo, 15, began as a freshman there last September.

It was terrible to see the campus ablaze, though we knew it wasn't as horrific as watching someone's home burn down. A few minutes earlier, Luc's girlfriend, Nikola, 19, had spotted her condo building on fire around a mile away from the school.

She sobbed in my arms. We later found out she'd lost everything except the bag of clothes she'd grabbed before evacuating. The branches of the trees were in flames as she ran to the car.

My son asked about his graduation and prom

Cole, our senior, was on a snowboarding trip with some classmates in Mammoth Mountain, a five-hour drive from Topanga. They found out about what happened to the high school on social media.

"I won't get my graduation ceremony at Pali High, will I?" Cole asked me. "Or prom?"

"No," I replied as gently as I could. I don't think you will." He had gone to his brother's graduation, and it had been an enormous thing. Cole is a linebacker on the school football team, which plays a huge role in the celebration.

Some people in his cohort have already had their pictures taken for the senior graduating yearbook in their formal dresses and suits. But this year's book can't be finished. The photo lab where they do it has gone.

I could tell Cole was upset, but he's a kid who puts things into perspective. It's best not to have a school than a home. Of the six kids who went to Mammoth Mountain, only two of them — including Cole — still had homes. We've told them that there'll always be a bed for them here as long as we're not evacuated.

Everyone is on edge as we worry about our houses. We haven't really had a chance to think about what classes will look like this year.

But Cole and Theo have been told they will start online schooling before the high school figures out how to relocate about 3,000 kids to other places.

The kids can't really process the events

Remote learning during the pandemic was a nightmare for everyone, particularly Theo, who suffered a traumatic brain injury when he was younger. We didn't get through a single day without tears. The social isolation also affected the kids.

As for the here and now, they can't absorb what's going on. When you watch the fires on the news, the images are so shocking that they don't seem real. I can see it in their faces. "My darlings," I told them. "I don't think the human brain can process this because so much has gone in such a short space of time."

I'm a big communicator, even when the boys don't like it. Sometimes, I'll talk and hear nothing back, but I don't stop. I'm constantly checking in on them to tell them that I love them.