'Play angels', she said.

A baby girl wrapped in newspaper was found on the doorstep of a bakery high in the Greek mountains.
She had a small piece of paper attached to her clothing with the name Theodora on it.
Somehow she ended up at hospice in a suburb on the outskirts of Stockholm where I was working one summer as a 'music therapist'.
The head psychiatrist at the hospice was a friend of mine and after having read of Anna Grieg, (grand daughter of the great Norwegian composer Edward Grieg), experimenting with music as way of communicating with patients, my friend asked me if I would be interested in doing something similar at the hospice. I was in my second year of music studies, very interested in psychology, loved all forms of improvisation, so I jumped at the chance of exploring this new form of therapy they called "music therapy".
In preparation for this experiment I read books, and then more books, spent hours with my friend just talking about how to do it, watched instructional films and sat in on a few group sessions.
I had always and still do, believed that music is a language free from barriers, that it speaks directly to the mind, soul and body; I was eager to try out my hypothesis.
The first time I met Theodora, rather I saw her; was when she flew by me on her blue bike. She was shrieking with laughter, her hair whipping the air, the handlebar bell pinging, ding-dingely-ding as she passed me in a puff of blue.
There was an upright piano in the hall where I was "teaching". Usually a bit out of tune and with a few keys missing, nonetheless, it was still playable. For more elaborate music I brought a portable record player and some of my vinyls. I had learnt from my students that they all responded to different kinds of music so I carried Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Mozart, Dvorak`, BB King, plus many other artists with me. I would set up in the hall, play the piano or record player, and sometimes Theodora would stop by the door and listen for a brief minute or two.
This particular day something changed. I didn't turn on the lights in the hall, I just sat down at the piano and started to play. Nothing planned, nothing previously composed, just straight from the heart.
I don't know how much time passed, but suddenly Theodora came flying through the hall doors on her bike. Full speed, bell ding-dingely-dinging, hair flying everywhere.
Around and around the hall she went. I stopped playing. She stopped on her bike.
She just stood there looking at me. Suddenly I remembered  something that I used to do on the piano when I was a kid. I would pull my fingers across the black keys like playing a harp, from the top down to the bottom, so I did. As I started to do so, Theodora jumped on her bike and flew around the hall again. I stopped playing. She rode her bike next to me.
"Play more angels" she said.
Which was very amazing since she had never uttered a word before.