Write on, brother

I was forged in fire so hot it hurt to get near me. The hands that made me were skilled from many years of apprenticeship and servitude which was given the chance to blossom into incredible creativity. Hands that were stigmatized, then later redeemed, for sharing the secrets of Murano glassblowing with the students of the Pilchuck Glass School an hour north of Seattle. Nobody had ever shared these long held secrets with the outside world. What an honor to be birthed from the furnace of he who is called Maestro by his peers. Over the years more respected, more able to bridge the gap between Murano and Seattle, so finally some of those peers also came to teach at Pilchuck. But the one who made me took the art and craft of making things from glass in many new directions. Creating things never conceived before. But certainly copied since. Though none has reached the pinnacle my maker has. The grand experiment of my unfolding was a brilliant idea for a whole new style of glass creations in a series known as Saturns. But alas, as one of the first I did not achieve the perfection of form that my later brothers and sisters did. But I’m proud of my one small flaw. It shows my humanity. And also let someone that really loves and cares about me be my owner instead of someone that might’ve just stuck me on a shelf, though a custom made one, and never let the sun shine through me and the wind blow over me and the raindrops land on me. I like it here in the Maui breezes. I hope I get to stay.