9

My nearly twenty-year-old daughter doesn't sing, talk, or sign. Severe autism and Down Syndrome seem to have made those things impossible for her. Non-verbal communication is all she has. Music is one of her favorite things. She responds to it. Sometimes when she hears music, her face lights up, she opens her eyes wide and smiles, or she'll rock herself sideways, moving from foot to foot and back and forth to dance. When she's really excited, sometimes she'll shake her arms. Or when she's sitting, she'll move her feet by shaking them and twisting them around quickly. We've always called them "happy feet." She's done that since she was a small baby with duckling-fine blond hair that stood straight up when it was freshly washed.

Television is usually too stimulating for her, so she'll "watch" TV while sitting behind the couch.Today, we wanted her to be more comfortable and sit on the couch with us. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir was singing "Sweet is the Work," "Rejoice the Lord is King," and then "Master the Tempest is Raging." Maybe it was being so close to the TV or maybe it was the music, but she was shaking all over and had a big smile on her face.

"Look, she's leading the music," said my son. My two younger children were sitting on either side of her.

She did appear to be leading the music with her right hand going up and down, up and down to the rhythm of the song. My younger children took her arms and helped make her motions bigger, helped her continue to move them to the rhythm. Her smile got bigger and so did theirs.

This evening, while I've been sitting at the computer, she's been playing the piano. She was softly touching one key at a time, sometimes repetitively and going from key to key with the tips of her fingers. She seems to prefer the high notes, but maybe that is just because she was standing on that side of the piano.

"She's good at playing the piano," said my eleven-year-old son.

"Yeah, she is," I said.

"It's just nice listening to that. Don't you think?" he said.

"Yeah, I think so." She plays like gentle rain.

"I'm going to help her play the piano," he said. He took her hand, helped her play a few keys louder than her own playing, and then went back to what he was doing. After he left, she stopped.

"Why'd you stop Lena? Do more," he said. He was working on a project in the kitchen.

I missed her playing too. I walked over to the piano, helped her sit on the bench, and then went back to the computer. Once again, she started playing one or two keys at a time, very gently. She stopped every once in a while and just looked at the keys. Then started again. It was a very pretty song.

After a while, she got up off the piano bench, found a toy on the floor, and sat down to tap out a rhythm only she understands.