Story
Play (Zia's Song) Previous Story
Hidden within each of us is a child who waits to play.
Zia sits in her old green vest perched on the stool, magnifying glass headgear pulled to her eyes, bent over a scattering of beads and stones, thin copper wire, intricate clasps, and unidentifiable odds and ends.
She greets us with her childlike grin, glitter on her left cheek and chin. Her eyes wide and full of excitement, she jumps up for a hug, shuffling blue hand-knit slippers over scraps of paper and fabric that litter the floor from yesterday’s creation.

We lean against the worktable and balance coffee cups between stacks of handmade boxes, photos for framing, and just-finished tiny wire sculptures that make us laugh out loud.
With my forearm I carefully nudge the soldering iron, glue gun, and steel gray toolbox to make room for a few deliveries, requested earlier this morning. My eyes scan the room, which is always filled with paintings, easels, brushes, paper cutters, glue machines and every other imaginable tool of her trade. I think, ”Creativity!”
We talk of life, projects, and ordinary things, offer suggestions and sometimes an extra hand. Several hours later we walk to the car smiling, shaking our heads in disbelief. Her energy seems endless, ageless. Every day there are new ideas that elicit the same giddy excitement, at the prospect of transforming her imaginings into reality. Through over 10 years, and projects too numerous to count, we have shared her magical processes. Tucked in this secluded hilltop retreat, the same child arrives every morning. She is persistently present, simply waiting for the invitation to play.
You may also want to visit our other websites:
Play Music Video
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
New Music - Virtual CD
In Touch in Tuscany
She greets us with her childlike grin, glitter on her left cheek and chin. Her eyes wide and full of excitement, she jumps up for a hug, shuffling blue hand-knit slippers over scraps of paper and fabric that litter the floor from yesterday’s creation.

Glittered Hair
We lean against the worktable and balance coffee cups between stacks of handmade boxes, photos for framing, and just-finished tiny wire sculptures that make us laugh out loud.
With my forearm I carefully nudge the soldering iron, glue gun, and steel gray toolbox to make room for a few deliveries, requested earlier this morning. My eyes scan the room, which is always filled with paintings, easels, brushes, paper cutters, glue machines and every other imaginable tool of her trade. I think, ”Creativity!”
We talk of life, projects, and ordinary things, offer suggestions and sometimes an extra hand. Several hours later we walk to the car smiling, shaking our heads in disbelief. Her energy seems endless, ageless. Every day there are new ideas that elicit the same giddy excitement, at the prospect of transforming her imaginings into reality. Through over 10 years, and projects too numerous to count, we have shared her magical processes. Tucked in this secluded hilltop retreat, the same child arrives every morning. She is persistently present, simply waiting for the invitation to play.
You may also want to visit our other websites:
Play Music Video
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
New Music - Virtual CD
In Touch in Tuscany



Reader Comments