The sound of the Christmas bells

The defeated widower paced
down the road decorated with
christmas lights, it's yet another
day when he failed to get a job.
Down at his old dilapidated
house at a quaint corner of the
city, his sons were in a row.
"Who says Santa won't bring gifts
this year? I'm his favourite!!"
The elder one with his stern and
obstinate face growled,
"grow up!
There is no Santa."
" The man
calmly bent down before his son,
holding back his tears,
"your
brother is right dear, there is no
Santa"
, and brisked across his
room, which was decorated with
resplendent christmas trees and
an array of gifts. The
dumbfounded man found a note
beside it,
"There are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy".

Somehow the soul of the man electrified into something ethereal, something that cannot be described. He knew not what after this. He knew only a feeling, a feeling which blessed him away from worldly atrocities that he had functioned over the years. The night was cold with snow falls falling like old dust from the edges of the age old sky. The lulled silence of the cosmos bespoke of it's fully cultivated flavor. Suddenly, the clunking sound of metal bells captured his attention. Bells that  danced around wildly on his nostalgic arena. The image of his wife wearing a santa Claus hat, the one she wore on her last Christmas, floated infront of him. The image that made him shiver the rest of the night.