I think I mentioned that I was going to rewrite Chapter 1? I was not satisfied with it. Of course, it is good to forge ahead and not keep rewriting chapters, however, in this case I really wanted to do that because I'm starting the book in a completely different direction so if I didn't write this I think I'd get confused. This isn't very long. It's actually meant to be more like a prologue than a chapter, but readers tend to skip prologues so it's better to label it Chapter 1. Here is Chapter 1 of my memoir, "Lydia's Lantern." It's actually a prologue in disguise. I've been told that readers often skip the prologue. But they need to read this to understand the rest of the book. I don't think it matters much whether you call this Chapter 1 or a prologue. After this, I will not be posting any more chapters until I get to the final chapter. I think I might post that one in this group. So here it is: The Cat Who Came Back Through the Clouds I never thought I’d get Lydia back. Not after five years. Not when she had never been mine to begin with. She was my former housemate’s sister’s cat, a relationship twice removed, the kind that should not leave a mark. When I bade goodbye to Lydia the last time I visited her, it was an ordinary day in Colorado, the air thin, the light bright, the mountains quietly watching. As I struggled with my hiking boots, Lydia sat in the foyer, her unseeing, milky-blue eyes turned towards me. “Lydia,” I said, speaking loud and clear so that, even with her hearing impairment, she might register my voice. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to come see you anymore. I’m leaving for California.” The puzzled expression never left her face. Her pink nose sniffled. I reached over and stroked her, blinking back tears. She pressed her head against my open palm. I straightened myself, and with a final glance back, I closed the door, stepped outside, and made a wish. Not on a star, but on the wind that caressed my face, then let the wish go like a leaf on a stream, one small thought among the countless that crossed my mind as I prepared for my trip.

Here is the rest of Chapter 1: The first thing I did was talk to John. “Of course,” he said, without hesitation. I had regaled him with stories about Lydia and had always wanted to meet her. Now he would not only meet her; he would have the opportunity to live with her. There was one tiny complication, and I mean physically small. Mittens, a dainty Siamese mix with a sweet, distinctive line down the center of her face, and the temperament of a lullaby. I had adopted her from the friend I’d rented a room from before she went bankrupt. At the time, Mittens appeared to be dying. I thought I was giving her hospice care, but I ended up snatching her from the jaws of death. We had a special bond that I could not break. We were confident, though, that we could work it out. Mittens had previously lived with two other cats and two dogs. She had learned how to share space, if not always gracefully, then at least without open warfare. We told ourselves it would be fine. Two cats, one house, and a careful introduction period. People did it all the time. I called Courtney and said yes—yes, of course, yes. She booked Lydia’s flight to San Jose. The cat would be traveling alone, crated and cargoed, from one life to another. As soon as Courtney had the details, she sent me the flight number, the date and time. I walked around for days like I was drunk on joy. It was a rare state for me, to feel that light. Then, a few days later, while I was at the dentist, my phone rang. Normally, I would have let it go to voicemail. But something nudged me to look. Texas area code. Lydia’s layover was in Texas. “Do you mind if I take this?” I asked the hygienist. “Go ahead,” she said, and let me step out of the room. The woman on the line introduced herself as an airline worker. “I have a cat here named Lydia” she said. “The paperwork says she’s going to San Jose, Costa Rica. But your address says San Jose, California. Which is correct?” For a second, the world tilted. I pictured Lydia, blind and disoriented, emerging in a country where no one was waiting for her.

Are you all familiar with Juliet Cleary? She says that you don't manifest, you have to DECIDE! This made me think of what @Yvette Muhammad always declares.

The Wordsmith Academy Course suggested posting the outline in the group. As required, I have a short summary for each chapter, and the lesson learned for each one. After completing the entire outline, I realize that the Chapter 1 I wrote needs to be revised. But that's okay. I may post the revision here, but I will not post any more of the book chapters. Maybe when I get to the last chapter. Anyway, here is the outline: Working Outline — Lydia’s Lantern Chapter 1 — The Cat Who Returned Through the Clouds Chapter Summary: The narrator recalls making a quiet, almost accidental wish during a final farewell in Colorado—without belief, ceremony, or expectation. Years later, long after the wish has been forgotten, it unexpectedly returns, setting the story in motion. Lesson Learned: Sometimes we ask for things without understanding what they will require of us. Chapter 2 — Unmoored Chapter Summary: The narrator describes a period of profound dislocation: leaving a hard-won life in Japan for a relationship that quickly collapses, followed by the illness and death of her beloved cat, Saki. With both a partner and an animal companion gone, she finds herself emotionally and practically unanchored. Lesson Learned: Loss reveals how much our sense of stability depends on the relationships we assume will last. Chapter 3 — The First Choosing Chapter Summary: While living in temporary housing after her losses, the narrator encounters Lydia, a blind, neglected-looking cat who belongs to someone else. Without intention or planning, Lydia chooses her—offering comfort at a moment of emptiness and initiating a bond neither of them was seeking. Lesson Learned: Love often begins not with intention, but with recognition. Chapter 4 — Learning Lydia Chapter Summary: As the narrator spends time with Lydia in Boulder, she learns how Lydia navigates the world without sight and how living with her requires patience, attention, and adaptation. Through shared routines, the narrator begins to change her pace and way of seeing.

I'm almost finished writing Chapter One of my memoir. Since I wanted to show you what I'm doing and how I'm doing, I thought I would post part of my first chapter here. I will post my outline as Shawn instructs in his Wordsmith manual for feedback once I've finished that. But I wanted to draft the chapter first so I can get an idea of where it's headed. So here it is: The Cat Who Returned Through the Clouds Have you ever wished upon a star? Has the cosmos ever answered your prayer? A long time ago, I made a wish—not on a star, but on the wind. It was an ordinary day in Colorado, the air thin, the light bright, the mountains quietly watching. I made the wish offhandedly and let it go like a leaf on a stream, without ceremony, one small thought among the countless thoughts that crossed my mind. Some five years later, long after I’d forgotten it, the wish found its way back to me. A miracle for someone like me who stumbled through life as if I didn’t have eyes to see nor ears to hear. I always felt unsure, unmoored. I remember once a group therapist told us that people like us—adult children of dysfunctional families—needed advice more than most. But didn’t everyone? I often suspected the human race had been sculpted by an unskilled potter with poor aim. Dysfunction wasn’t the exception—it was the design. If advice were the cure, the entire world needed a prescription. At the time, I was living in California, in Silicon Valley, in that unsettled state that feels like being mid-step on a staircase: not on the floor below, not yet on the floor above. I rented a room from a friend until I found my own apartment. It was then that I met the man who would become my husband—a quiet software engineer named John. A psychic once told me I’d meet someone like him, but by then I treated predictions like weather reports from another planet. I consulted psychics only because I didn’t know what else to do. Therapists weren’t remotely helpful either. At least, psychics were cheaper, more time efficient, and occasionally, comforting. Still, none of them had steered my life in any sort of meaningful way. John did that simply by showing up.