The wind whistles through the open door, sprinkling the living room with fresh white snow. Inside is an elegant Christmas tree, twinkling in the corner of the room, adorned with unique ornaments, reminiscent of the journeys shared between a man and his wife. At the top of the tree is a lone star devoid of all light. The charming little one-story farmhouse isn't empty, although it's so quiet it sounds like a Charlie Chaplin movie. An elderly man, George, sleeps in his tattered old rocking chair next to the warm, crackling fireplace. George wakes abruptly, noticing the cold seeping into the house. He groans and walks towards the door in his threadbare robe and tattered slippers. As he prepares to close the door, George peers into the drifting snow. The white storm takes him back to a memory of precisely fifty years ago. He thinks back to that day, inside the beautiful Water Hill Inn, where warm air radiated through the vents. In the ballroom lit by candles and strewn with roses, George stood before his friends and family. The music was conceived as a vision ...