"We wash the wool.
We card it to straighten
the tangles. We spin it
on a spindle.
All of this takes weeks, but in my
memory, it's one long wonderful day."
In a cultural tradition passed from one generation to the next, an Iranian grandmother teaches her grandson how to weave a rug that will replace a worn one she once made with her grandmother. They take breakfast to Grandpa who is tending the sheep, and provides wool that he has sheared for the rug making. They will work to make it the best rug ever.
The process begins. As they work, readers are made aware of every step along the way. They dye the wool, they draw their design for the familiar work they will do together, they examine their old rug, and they are reminded of the many memories they have shared while sitting on that rug. They have everything they now need to make its replacement.
Grandma shows her grandson the weaving process and allows time for him to learn. He wants it to be the best; Grandma cautions that it will be just right to sit on. Try as he might, he has some difficulty with getting the knots exactly right. She explains that nothing is perfect; nor should pretend to be. Once their work is completed, they take the old rug down to sit beneath the loom, and place the new one in the living room for the family.
"A Persian rug is an imperfect thing. But
its purpose is to make a precious memory."
In an author's note, Daniel Nayeri explains that rugmaking is a 2,500-year-old process and it has remained much the same over that entire time. Different regions of Iran have signature designs; rugs are handmade on a loom; the number of knots per square inch account for value. None are perfect, and that is the lesson the young boy learns as he works with his grandmother. An artist's work is not meant to be perfect, but to reflect beauty.
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