At the start of the session, the little girl was lying on her bed, admitting to feeling a little lethargic and tired, having just taken her medication.
“That’s alright”, my supervisor said. “We can just sing together.”
And that was what we did for awhile. The singing seemed to perk her up, and soon she was sieving through the instruments to decide which she wanted to play.
By the end of the session, she had gone through playing on the drums, shakers, narrating stories, and engaging in mischievous play. For those moments she was not just the girl with cancer, but also the girl with the cheeky smile and playful and sociable personality.
At the end of the session, just as we were getting ready to go, she dug under her sheets and held out something in her palm to us.
“For you”, she said to us with a smile, revealing the two little hearts.
I place this heart on my table, where I can see it everyday. Each time, it reminds me of a few things: The transformative power of music, the reassurance that this is the right path for me, the reminder it’s the little things that can mean the most.
It has always been the little things.