The house I grew up in was built by my grandfather and his brothers. There are a lot of things it lacked, like hot water, but I didn’t know I was poor until I was old enough to start going to sleepovers as a pre-teen.
When I was in the 6th grade, we (mom + little sis + me) moved into a really nice apartment. Nice was a relative term considering the amenities my grandparent’s house offered. The apartment had hot water, two bedrooms, and one and a half baths. It was government housing, so everyone around me was poor too.