THE KEY WORKED ON THE FIRST TURN

Dear Delyara, Eighteen months ago, my daughter and I were sleeping in my car. I had left an abusive relationship with one suitcase, $73, and no place to go. We stayed in a shelter, then transitional housing. I worked breakfast shifts at a hotel and cleaned offices at night. Every week, I applied for apartments. Thirty-two landlords rejected me because of my credit, income, or lack of rental history. A housing counselor helped me dispute old debts and apply for a rental-assistance program. My manager wrote a reference. I saved every tip in an envelope labeled DOOR. Today, I unlocked our apartment. The key worked on the first turn. There is no furniture yet. My daughter ate pizza on the floor and asked whether she could paint her room yellow. I said yes. After she fell asleep in her sleeping bag, I locked and unlocked the front door six times. Not because I was afraid. Because I needed to feel the sound of safety obeying my own hand.