the big green rug

the story of my floor has been on my heart this week, after seeing that Nadine finds peace on hers. when I saw that this week's five minute friday was centering on the ordinary, this is what came out.

it was just a big green rug. 

nothing spectacular. 

of course, we loved it: it was the perfect shade of weird green to match our personalities, and would fit perfectly in the apartment we were beginning to outfit + would inhabit once our I dos had been whispered.

and so we placed it on the floor, in the only spot our tiny, bachelor apartment would allow, and it was another piece of furniture. often sat upon [when the not seating options are a bed and two small chairs, behinds find their way to the comfiest piece of floor], but not seen as much more than just an ordinary rug.

but is it, just?

three years + three different living spaces later, that rug has become the go-to spot for visitors. despite having aquired two cozy armchairs and a couch since the rug's first days, people end up sitting [or more often lying] on the floor.

we open our home + hope that everyone who graces it knows it as a safe space; I think for the most part we have been able to maintain that ideal. the green rug is at the forefront. 

what has become my ordinary tells people to come inside. it opens up the door, gives them the bread and the cup and tells them to seek comfort in whatever way necessary. we dismiss the table in favor of a more intimate dining experience on the floor. together. finding beauty in the spilled food, spilled tears, spilled hearts. 

the green rug has seen many feet + many behinds. and we love it. ohm do we ever love it. it has been more than mere carpet in our home. it has become a friend, a piece on which to sit + love. to be loved. to be connected with, and get connected on.

far from just an ordinary rug.

writing with Lisa Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday. 

hop on over + see how others interpret ordinary.