To my child,

the old lady gave me a new cherrywood drop spindle today. Seeing her spin with the old one is fascinating! She can do it fully suspended - it's like magic. She showed me how to do it properly, but she still won't talk. She took the old one and left the new spindle.

I wonder why they felt the need to switch the spindle. It's only a small piece of wood, really.

My yarn is not as nice as hers, but now that I have seen how it is properly done I feel like I'm making progress.

Watching the suspended spindle spin while the wool turns into smooth thread is something I might never get tired of. Now that I can do it more or less fully suspended I tend to fall into a trance just watching it.

This must seem silly to you. In stories cultivators bond with their swords or connect with the earth or the wind, yet here I am bonding with my spindle. I doubt I'll ever be a great cultivator.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

In love,

your mother