Smoke billows through the rock. A horse runs on the rusted sand on the beach. Faith Hill, wearing a burgundy haltered top layered over a black tank top and jeans, stands by a wooden charcoal bench. Wearing a shawl, she raises her arms and looks at the mountains.
She holds a dove in her hands and kisses it. She sits on the charcoal wooden bench. Opening her hands, she lets the dove go. At night ,she sits by a bonfire. During the sunset, the horse stands up on its hinds legs and neighs. In the afternoon, she continues to look at the mountain.
Faith Hill opens her hand. The dove walks into her palm. She pets it with her finger. It nuzzles her cheek. She holds into her palm. It was her aunt. She tells the dove she’s been taking care of her nieces and they are doing well in school. The dove looks into her eyes. Tears sting in her eyes as she gives it a small smile. She had to let it go.
As the dove flies into the sky, she looks to the clouds. Her aunt was still around somewhere. During her final Thanksgiving she had told the family her prognosis was terminal. She told them she had accepted it and believed she would she visit them again as a dove.
Shielding her eyes, she sees the dove sitting on the cliff. The dove wasn’t going to leave her. She sits on the sand and wets her fingers in the ocean. On the way home, she had to grocery shop and return some clothes at the mall. However, she could get it done another day. She wanted to stay with aunt for the rest of the day.
Director: Matthew Rolston Year: 2003