My parents and boyfriend helped with the move. Dad drove the U-Haul up the NJ turnpike with me riding shotgun. Mom and the boy followed in a car. We’d done “moving day” many times before, but never quite like this. Our little furniture dollies were no match for the maze of a pre-war apartment building. We carried and maneuvered furniture through many doorways and obstacles. There was the heavy magnetic gate to the building courtyard that wouldn't stay open, maneuvering around the fountain to the main building entrance, crowding on and off the tiny Otis elevator with double doors (it was just big enough for about 2 people with a stack of boxes, but at least we had an elevator!!), and finally down the skinny hallway of my railroad-style apartment. As my belongings accumulated inside my new home, no one could quite believe or accept it. Not even me. Mom kept asking “This is what you want? You sure you want to live here ?” My boyfriend echoed, “You don’t have to do th...