Wine and Cardboard

We made it to Colorado and arrived during a spring blizzard. I found it interesting that my definition of "success" was fluid. The fact that no fast food workers at the drive-thru windows lost their arm was my new definition of "success".

The movers delivered all of my possessions and we were in our new home. A new start to a new life! The exhilaration quickly ended, however, when I saw that the neighbors next door were in the midst of putting a new roof on their home. That was clearly something Jessie could not handle. The solution was to take my ample supply of cardboard boxes and seal off every single window. We were in a self-contained fort, void of any outside threats.

I sat on the couch with her, in the midst of all the unpacking that needed to be done. She was calm, sleeping on my lap, content. Her new home was safe from everything and everyone from the outside world. I poured a rather large glass of wine and cried for her. This was her definition of safety. She would like nothing more than to stay like this forever. I obviously knew we could not live like this, but knowing that she could, broke my heart. It proved how far we needed to go. There was no other choice than to take the path of overcoming her fears. Knowing that humans did all of this to her filled me with a resolve that we, together, would ultimately be victorious. But, I also knew that the road wasn't going to be easy, and it wasn't going to be pretty.