She was sitting still; staring at the hour glass, waiting for time to pass. The autumn breeze was colder than usual, and it took this for her to realize that she missed the sun, the light, because the day was burning low. She was feeling low. It took feeling low for her to realize that she had been high before, that everything passes, like the sand in the hour glass. It was time for her to go home, it was time to let her go. She stopped waiting for time to pass, she stopped wondering why. It was time to hit the road; time to let the hour glass go.