A carpet is a remarkably versatile piece of a house.
It’s a comfort to tired feet coming home after a long day.
It’s another task for the homeowner, stuck with the work of vacuuming.
It’s a cushion for the tumbling children, as they roughhouse their way through childhood.
It’s a bed for the pet curled up by the fire.
It can have many personalities: a solid color or a patterned design, light or dark, soft or coarse.
It may be so familiar that you can pass over it easily in the night, or so new it may surprise your feet as you walk across it.
For me, an old carpet is an old friend, and can play an even stranger role: a place for me to position my laptop and my body, and write.
But for most, a carpet is so innocuous; they don’t even know it’s there.