We worry about our children, even when they’re not children anymore. When my son lived in Barcelona for his junior year in college, I worried that a car would run him over if was on his cell phone when he crossed a big boulevard. When the New York streets are icy, I’ll call my grown daughter and remind her to be careful walking. We can’t help ourselves. It’s a mother thing.
A 27-year-old woman was raped in the early morning today in her upper East Side Manhattan apartment. She lived on a street lined with brownstones and small apartment buildings; her apartment was on the ground floor. She left her window open last night, giving the rapist instant access to her room while she slept.
I don’t believe there’s a mother on the planet who would think to advise her daughter to close her window before she goes to sleep. We can’t protect our children forever, no matter how hard we try.
Thank goodness, the young woman was not killed or seriously harmed, except, of course, for the mental anguish she is suffering.
My thoughts are with her and her mother.