I talked to my mom on the phone today, and of course, she asked about the bomb since she heard about it on the news, and she asked where I was at the time the bomb went off. Funnily enough, I gave my mom the answer she’d always like to hear: I was at home. We actually were. And of course, she sounded relieved. “It’s so dangerous out there! I tell you not to go out too late!” she exclaimed. Before Chris and I were together and I was still living in Elmhurst, she used to admonish me every time I said I wasn’t home on the weekends. If I were out meeting friends for drinks or dinner, or even just going out shopping, she’d sound annoyed, interrogating me about all the details (who, what, where) and when I’d be home. Her absolute favorite response to “where are you?” is when I’d tell her I was at home reading — I guess that’s what good girls do.