Families scatter. Hard drives fail. Photo albums fade in attics. I started Heirloom because I watched my father's stories live in only a handful of minds, and I was afraid of what happens when those minds are gone.
This is not a social network. There are no strangers here. It is a quiet room where we keep the things that matter: who loved whom, how the porch sounded at dusk, how the light looked on reunion day.
If you are reading this as a grandchild not yet born — welcome. We saved this for you.