Raindrops from a rose entwined on the gate. Enya avoids gazing at the moon through the skylight. She spreads her arms as the petals fall. A lavender tulip blooms. She looks out a cracked window. Drenched from the rain, she steps in the ankle-deep water.
She looks as the sun clears the sky. The hourglass tips to the side. Sand pours through a small hole. She watches three waterfalls of sand fill the sink. She picks up some sand in her hand and blows on it. She sits on the cleared steps and sees the autumn leaves fall. She turns and snow begins to fall. She walks towards a piano covered in snow.
There was perhaps a month or a few weeks left, at most. Steeped in sand, she clears the bookshelf and finds a book. She hadn’t been able to get to it. It only take her a day or two. There were still things to do. She had to call her children and get her paperwork in order. She had tried not to fret. It was not how she wanted her spend her days.
Her youngest daughter tells her she’s in contact with the manager and they are trying stop the sand. She tells her daughter she has accepted it. Her youngest daughter breaks out in tears and says she can’t do it. She assures her daughter it’s the right decision. Her youngest daughter says her family wants to see her. She says it’s too late. The sand is moving faster every day.
She had a good life. All three of her children turned out well. They checked on her whenever they had a chance and visited her on the holidays. It was youngest daughter who was taking it hard. She was searching for treatments and cures. Enya had told her youngest daughter she had to leave it be. Her youngest daughter had told her an extra minute or so would be a gift. Enya preferred to not to know. However, she was grateful for each second she had.
Director: N/A Year: 2000