how much a rug makes a difference in your living space
i bought a rug recently.
it was handmade in Afghanistan.
the shop that held it had many others, also exploding in colors. the intricate works of them, pulled out gently by a battered middle-aged man with gray hair, added to my retail experience. he poked noisily at his phone, as such is the action of a foreign, outdated man with new world technology.
“leight me tell you ze exact amount of how much zis rug will cost,” he peers from his glasses. it was only the calculator app. and i wondered why they had not bothered to price-tag the rugs themselves.
i think i should have haggled. but i didn’t have the power in me to speak up... whatever price they would list is probably the cost of which i would buy it. ask and they shall receive. intrinsically, i don’t think i’m greedy. this seemed like a genuine man with a good family.
i saw around the shop a few whom seemed to me like family members. there were three other uncles bending their necks in our showroom to see the young asian girl trying to decide a carpet. there was an aunt at the computer, another uncle scrolling through designs. and a much older grandpa walking around petting carpets. and there was a child, a young boy, perched high on top of stacked rolls of carpets. oh, to be that child.
“zees pile,” he presents bringing me back into the smaller sized rug room, “more expensif, handmade.”
And he plopped each rug one-by-one on the floor showing me the patterns and colors of them until i saw one that i liked. i narrowed down to three: first with a striking color blue that i liked, second with an embroidery on the edge that called out to me, and third with a pattern that i especially.
upon more moments with the rugs myself, in which the old man and i, self-consciously, analyzed my movements and thought process, i chose the second. though despite its color at first hand, as i was put off by the brownness of the center, i pulled out my camera to realize that the black background was actually an indigo sky night blue in a certain light. i loved it, already it was a carpet with secrets and that took me by surprise. i fell in love with the second carpet and graciously made payment.
taking it home as it balanced on my scooter in its rolled form brought smiles to my face. the sun and wind in my hair felt freeing. it was my day off, and the day in Somerville was quite nice. and i spoke only with one other person that day, which was my sister on FaceTime. it was a simple day, despite my mental struggles lately. how do i be patient with myself? how do i love myself? how do i be my own best friend?
i rolled out the carpet in my tiny shoebox apartment room. i sat on it. and it felt like home.
