My mother called, she’s locked herself in the basement. There are two helicopters hovering over her house. Police cars line the street. Officers surround the house next door.

There are screams. Followed by gun shots. And then more screams. She’s convinced her neighbor just got murdered.  She doesn’t know what to do. She’s panicked. Terrified. Afraid that she’s going to be killed.  I try and calm her down. She won’t listen.

I doubt there is a murderer. I think she’s just crazy. She lives in a quiet neighborhood in Connecticut. Across the street is a convent. The nuns rollerblade in the summer.

Nothing ever happens in Connecticut. She won’t listen. Instead she does what people do when they’ve lost all sense of the situation, she talks to herself without ever really hearing what the other person is saying.

She wants to make a run for it. She’s 67 years old with a broken shoulder. I tell her to stay in the basement. Keep the door locked. It will be okay. She arms herself with a broomstick and a box of tide.

I turn on the television. I stare in disbelief. My mother’s house is on CNN.

Her neighbor owned a 200 pound chimp. It went crazy, nearly killed someone. The police were called in. They had to put it down.

My mother isn’t crazy.

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