Some things travel with us …

Some things travel with us for decades. Maybe even our whole lives. Grandma wove this rag rug for my mom. I crawled on it as a baby, jumped over it as a kid, and today I rolled it out in its new home, our bedroom, and just stood there barefoot for a while, 39 years later. Thanks, grandma! 🥰

Faded green, blush pink, and earthy brown threads run through the rag rug, which rests on the warm pine floor just below the edge of the bed. I stand barefoot, my toes pressed into its familiar weave.

Sven Dahlstrand,

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