Thinking of Sophia

In among the storm that is raging in my life at the moment, I sometimes spend a few minutes listening to recordings of Sophia's voice. The sadness remains, counterbalanced by memories of one of the most remarkable characters I've yet met. I can only just about look at the images of her cat, the faithful companion she left behind. Sophia never had children, a point of regret and pain for her. After she passed 50, cats became her children. I'm told that for months after Sophia died, cats would congregate by her house in Berneray, waiting to be fed. I've written it many times, I'll always think of Sophia in the evening light, opening her door to me with that serene smile, which would slowly fade into the darkness as light faded from the Window on the West. I'm pleased she doesn't appear to have suffered at the end.