There is a lady who really, REALLY does not like therapy. She does not seem to much like people either, sometimes.
This morning, I went to get her. I saw her sitting out in the hall, and I said, excitedly, "Come and see Willy. He's singing his little heart out." Willy is the little canary in the hall.
Her eyes got wide, and she got a big smile, which is not a common sight. She began wheeling herself down the hall, and I prayed like all get out that Willy would not stop singing before she got there.
She made her way slowly, and I walked beside her prompting her. We turned a corner and she stopped. Willy was still singing. "Do you hear him?" I asked, and she nodded, and once again, she began to propel herself down the hall. When she turned that last corner, Willy sang on. She made her way slowly to the front of his cage, and she stopped. Willy paused his singing, and studied her, cocking his little yellow head this way and that. She sat there with hands poised on her wheels, looking up at him. Once again, he burst into song. She laid her hands on her lap, and sat there with a small smile on her face, and her attention did not waver.
I love that no matter what is happening in a day, there is always a spot of magic in there somewhere. I stood there and watched the scene with my own small smile.