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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones


This morning the train was quiet. Not too many people, plenty of open seats. I drank my coffee and read the Red Eye and had no idea that across the globe, London had been bombed. I got in to the office and opened up my email. Twenty emails about the our London Office.

Oh. Shit. No. Fuck. London. Bomb.

I started to cry. London. My friends in London. The students in London. I picked up the phone and called my former supervisor. Somehow I caught him in between calls. “It’s Leah. Is everyone at the Res Hall ok?”

Everyone is fine, everyone is safe, everyone is accounted for.

Words can’t explain how I feel. Grateful. Relief. A sense of “Could have been me!” “See, you worry about Israel and BOOM the problem is in London.” I remembered the day of the bombing in Madrid, how I grabbed the phone and found my spanish students and found my traveling students. Everyone was safe then, too.

Maybe I’ll figure out where the U.K. consulate and take some flowers or something.

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