The Cloisters

by Katy Hays

The escapes I had relied on—books and research—no longer took me far enough away.

The kind of place that reminded you how temporary the human body was, but how enduring stone.

People always ask me for details, but our memory protects us from the worst traumas.

I didn’t respond. There was no way to articulate the darkness I had felt that evening, and I was certain it was more than just bad luck.

fate was as brutal as it was providential.

It was a reality I wasn’t prepared to face, because if I did, it would only mean one thing: more loss. And so, I had rationalized it. Compartmentalized.

And while I still believe we can control the little things in life, those small decisions that add up to the everyday, I think, perhaps, the overall shape of our life is not ours to decide. That shape belongs to fate.