It’s been five months since the fire. Life is getting back to normal. Cole is settling in as well. I find myself looking for a favourite fun t-shirt or a particular spice when cooking and wondering where they are. Then I stop and remember and get a little sad. I catch myself trying to call Cole, Dante a lot. They are nothing alike except that they are both black cats. I feel like I have a heart attack when I hear a smoke alarm, but I’m fine with fire trucks. If there’s a story on the news about a house fire I have to leave the room. I was watching The Girl Who Played with Fire a few nights ago and started crying during a scene where a barn gets burned down while two people are in it. I think this is normal and that it will eventually go away.