ELENA’S POVThe apartment was terrible. There was peeling paint on the walls, a radiator that clanged like a ghost in chains, and a kitchen so small I could touch both walls with outstretched arms.It was perfect.I folded another tiny onesie from the pile of secondhand baby clothes we’d bought at Goodwill. Size: Preemie. Color: Faded yellow. Price: Fifty cents. Two weeks ago, I’d owned designer maternity wear that cost more than our monthly rent. Now I was thrilled to find clean baby clothes for under a dollar. It was funny how perspective changed when you realized what actually mattered."How’s she doing today?" Adrian asked, returning from his morning visit to the NICU.I could read the answer in his smile."Gaining weight. Breathing on her own for longer periods. The doctors think she might come home in a few weeks.""Home." I looked around our tiny sanctuary. "I never thought a place like this could feel like home.""It’s not about the place," Adrian said, sitting beside me on ou
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