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.

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.