August 21, 1963, was the first day of my senior year.

I was in awe of the academy the week before when I had met with Mother Superior.

My mom and I stood before the twelve-foot gates with ornate handles and locks at the entrance. It was medieval.

Upon entering, we were directed to a small chapel for prayer before speaking to Mother Superior. Although more like a chapel, it was mesmerizing in its elaborate baroque style.

As we left, we could hear the Benedictine monks chanting in the courtyard.

A year-long immersion in the chant was a benediction.

2021©Isadora De La Vega

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Genre: Non-Fiction

Word Count: 101

Photo Prompt:DaleRogerson

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