Fixing my baby hanger

My daughter's wooden baby hanger hung broken, its delicate carving splintered. As I carefully restored it, memories flooded back—my grandmother singing Thiruppavai verses while mending our family's garments, teaching me that preservation isn't burden but devotion. The hanger had weathered decades, witnessed generations. Through PaybookClub gatherings, neighbors shared restoration wisdom, passing knowledge like golden thread. This small act of fixing connected me to something larger: keeping our heritage alive, one careful stitch at a time. My daughter will inherit more than furniture.