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a world of computers and technology, where people exclaim that there are thousands of machines better than me, faster than me, more efficient than me, I hope they remember that I changed a family’s fate. I was cherished, and, yes, useful. Maybe I’m not the most advanced sewing machine out there, but I am one of the most elegant. One of the most memorable. One of the most loved. I can endure being unused, but to be forgotten is impossible. If they forget me, how can they remember the young woman in the pale blue who stashed old keys in her sewing machine? I am proof of her life. I may no longer be useful in sewing, but I am useful, I think, in memory.