A Mother's Fear: I Want My Son Home From Boston

The call came just after 6 a.m. Friday morning.

When the phone rings at such an early hour, it’s natural to panic a little. But when the caller ID read Emerson College -- the Boston school where my son is a student -- my heart felt as though it could possibly stop.

The message told parents that the college would be closed Friday, that the school was on lockdown. Students were asked to remain inside. Keep their doors locked. They were told not to answer the door for anyone but a police officer. All public transit was shut down, they were told. No taxis. No buses. No trains. 

No way out.

As the horror unfolded on television -- beginning with Monday’s Boston Marathon nightmare that left three dead and scores injured, and leading up to Thursday night’s shooting spree that left a police officer and one suspect killed -- parents who have college students in Boston were paralyzed with fear. Uncertainty. And an overwhelming desire to get to Boston and bring our kids safely home.

When that phone rang, and that horrific message came over the line, my first instinct was to speak to my son. And, after repeated calls, texts, and Facebook messages with no response, the fear escalated. Frantic, I reached out to his friends on Facebook and other parents who have students at his school. Finally, finally he sent an IM -- he had been sleeping -- and I could breathe, for the first time in two hours.

But still.

Living on the North Fork, I’d always felt as though Boston was close to home. Close enough that I could just jump on the Cross Sound Ferry, then on an Amtrak train, and be at my son’s campus in just about three hours. Perfect for attending one of his performances as an acting major or cheering him on in a game of Quidditch.

But on Friday morning, Boston could have been a world away.

As gunshots from Thursday night’s shootout echoed on the television and through my house, my mother’s heart grew cold with fear. A terrorist, armed and “looking to kill,” according to officials, was on the loose in Boston. The same city where my son, my precious only child, is living.

What if he walked to the deli and happened upon the gunman? What if he were accidentally caught in the crossfire? What if an explosive device detonated near his apartment?

It’s the stuff of nightmares. And my son, who lives in an off-campus apartment in Allston, one of the suburbs on lockdown, was defenseless, in the thick of the unfolding drama. Just as he was on Monday, when, at work on Boylston Street, he was only steps from the finish line where explosions rocked Boston.

It’s hard enough to send our children off to college. Normal fears and empty nest pains are to be expected -- rites of passage as we send our children off into the world and give them wings to fly. 

But this. News of a mad terrorist planting explosives and shooting wildly in the streets of Boston, a college town brimming with thousands of students, kids who represent the best and brightest and carry our futures and our hearts with them -- it’s beyond what a parent can comprehend.

Yes, our kids are mature. They can handle most situations. My son and I have been IMing all morning and he’s following instructions and staying inside, he and his roommates glued to the news. 

But beneath the polished, cool exterior, behind the facade, lives the little boy who used to cling to my hand as he crossed the street. The child who couldn’t sleep at night without prayers and bedtime stories. The newborn baby I would have died to protect, then -- and still would, today.

No matter how far in the world they travel or what accomplished lives they lead, our children will always be our children. Our babies. And in times of crisis, a mother’s instinct, primal and fierce, is to gather her children close and protect them from the dangers that lurk outside the proverbial nest.
 
All I want, this dark Friday, is to bring my son home from Boston.

And I won’t truly breathe easily until he’s safe in his own bed.

Do you have a college student in Boston? What emotions are you experiencing as the drama unfolds?