glassybaby is my youngest sibling. i remember when she — yes, she is a she — was born. i remember a bunch of people milling around a big table full of color. i thought that was a weird, but pretty garage sale.
i remember when i was 12 i didn’t know what to give my mom for christmas (i still don’t. she may be the one person for whom a glassybaby set is not the greatest gift). so i wrote a one-page description of what i thought glassybaby was about. maybe that story has guided glassybaby somehow, a bit like how you can tell a little kid something about herself, and she’ll believe it, and become it.
my mom told me everything good about me before i knew myself, before i became myself. she’s done the same, of course, for glassybaby, because glassybaby is her baby. chairwoman, owner, founder… those titles work for business cards, but they’re not as accurate as “mother.” it’s an unorthodox job title, but the deepest, most important type of relationship. the most creative relationship, the most loving relationship.
the mothering instinct is my mom’s motivation. her need to be a mother is much more powerful than her desire to be alive: the power of being the mother to our family helped her survive cancer. without it she would have been lost. i don’t think about that very often.
she tapped into an energy that helped her recover, an energy derived from motherhood, a pure energy she’s always called white light. she channelled this energy, and then it surged past the brim of her soul out into the world, and glassybaby was born.
a daughter, a little sister, a niece, a cousin. she’s generous and kind, unique, beautiful, unassuming. last year a glassybaby lover told me about a little shrine she had made for her brother when he passed away. she would light her “breathe” glassybaby every evening, and it would illuminate his picture above. she said she could feel his spirit in that light— she could feel, again, the particular love one can only feel for family.
glassybaby is a family business. we love you.