Yuki had not been seen since John’s 48 hour rice whisky bender with the men from the village. A distant trundling the day after signaled her return; baby Misato is being towed in a pushchair with mud-caked wheels, and another woman is carrying a bundle of weaving implements. The men had disappeared after spending the afternoon throwing homemade clay firecrackers and drinking more whiskey/surgical spirit. John would eventually return with a cow ‘s head and a bag of meat (by the way- the meat was delicious, the head not so much).
Back at home, the weaving bundle was unfurled, the kettle was put on the fire, and order was finally restored to the homestead. You watched the woman twisting the wooden sticks and pushing the shuttle through, effortlessly doing something you would later conclude required three hands.
She points at her work and beckons you over. There’s a hide strap that goes around your back and a plank of wood to press your feet against to help you control the tautness of the thread. She taps the backs of your hands and indicates which parts to pull on, but even with her help you’re weaving at a speed of about one row per minute. Baby Misato would graduate high school before you managed to finish anything.
She takes over again after a while, having patiently watched you both fumble with her work. She chats to Yuki and entertains her four children while her fingers fly over the loom. You decide to start writing up your post. She takes a break from her weaving and watches you touch-type with mild interest.