My great-grandmother’s sewing machine is dusty and rusted, but its metal body still shines when I wipe it. I oil the parts, replace the needle, and thread it slowly. When I press the pedal, it hums to life, stitching a straight line through fabric. I make a small pillow with fabric from her old dress, and it feels like she’s with me. This restoration isn’t just fixing a machine—it’s keeping her memory alive, one stitch at a time.