Dear Poet
Dear Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, When seeing the words “Christmas Bells” nothing fills my mind but the wonders of Christmastime. I recount on the distinct smell of the old box from my attic full of decor passed down from generations of women with the same face as me; I’m met with the credulously flutter my heart held within the hours before St. Nicholas arrived; the warm feeling that lingered securely knowing I was surrounded in a house of love. Perhaps this was what drew me in, the ideas I held of Christmas were far beyond just societal connotation, they were lived, valued, and more true to me than a lot of things I know. It seemed, when I began your poem, that you and I were much alike in this sense. You describe your own memories of the sensory Christmastime as “wild and sweet”, which speaks to my own delight in the festive time of the year. I wonder, Mr. Longfellow, what those carols played. I wonder, if the magic of unity and melody fluttered your heart same as mine Christmas...