Now, I'm sure I would love and treasure these rugs just because they were made by my mother, but I'm also certain that I love them for how they fit in our home, as I choose to fill it. The way they agree with me/us is so complex: aesthetically, the materials, their handmaded-ness (!), their longevity, the love in every stitch. It all makes perfect sense to me: my mother is in these rugs, my mother is in me, therefore I love these rugs. It is a continual back and forth of inspiration and love, and I am so grateful for it.
Thank you, Mom! I love you.