Emily Dickinson

Hello! My name is Emily Dickinson. I want to tell you the story of my life, which was filled with family, nature, and lots of words. I was born on a chilly winter day, December 10th, 1830, in a town called Amherst, Massachusetts. I lived in a big brick house, which we called the Homestead, with my father Edward, my mother Emily, my older brother Austin, and my younger sister Lavinia, or Vinnie, as I called her. Our home was always bustling, but my favorite place was our garden, where I could watch the bees buzz and the flowers bloom. The changing seasons, the light on the leaves, and the smallest insects gave me ideas for the poems that would fill my days.

I loved to learn! In 1840, when I was just nine years old, I started at a school called Amherst Academy. My favorite subjects were science and literature because they helped me understand the world in different ways. I was fascinated by everything from the stars in the sky to the tiniest plants growing in the ground. Later, in 1847, I went to Mount Holyoke Female Seminary for a year. While I enjoyed my studies there, I missed my home and family terribly. It was during these school years that I realized words were my truest friends. I began to write down my thoughts and feelings in a special way, turning them into little poems that captured a single moment or a big idea.

As I grew up, I found that my biggest adventures were the ones I had right at home. I decided to live a quiet life at the Homestead. Some people thought it was strange for a young woman to stay home so much, but it gave me the peace I needed to think and write. My world was full of small joys. I loved to bake bread for my family and tend to my beautiful flowers in the glass conservatory my father built for me. I often wore a simple white dress, which felt comfortable and allowed me to focus on my work. Starting around 1858, I began carefully collecting my poems into little handmade booklets, which I sewed together with string. I called them my fascicles, and they were my secret treasure. I made about forty of these booklets, filled with hundreds of poems that nobody else saw.

Even though I stayed home, I didn't stop connecting with the world. I wrote hundreds of letters to my friends and family, sharing my thoughts and sometimes tucking a poem inside the envelope. In 1862, I gathered up my courage and sent some of my poems to a well-known writer named Thomas Wentworth Higginson to ask for his advice. He thought my poems were powerful but very unusual, with their short lines and surprising rhymes! He wasn't sure the world was ready for them. We became pen pals for the rest of my life, and his letters encouraged me to keep writing. During my time on Earth, only about ten of my poems were ever printed in a newspaper or book, and most of those were published without my name. I was very shy about sharing my work with the big wide world.

I lived to be 55 years old, writing poems right up until the end of my life in 1886. After I was gone, my sister Vinnie made an incredible discovery. She found my wooden chest filled with my fascicles, containing nearly 1,800 poems that she never knew existed! Vinnie knew the world had to see them, so she worked hard to get them published. The first book of my poems was finally printed in 1890. Today, my words have traveled far beyond my little room in Amherst. People all over the world read my poetry to feel inspired, to think about nature and love, and to see the world in a new and wondrous way.