Philip Hamilton was John Laurens' best friend's son. He had just turned 9 years old and was writing a poem to preform in front of his family at supper. His father was at work and His mother was downstairs with his little sister. As he was writing, Philip felt the air change in his room, he looked around. "Mr. John, is that you?"John Laurens' ghost had been there for a while, observing young Philip as he wrote. He appreciated being noticed by the boy. "Yes, it's me, Philip. Writing a poem?"
The young boy turned to face his ghostly friend and nodded, "It's to surprise Daddy when he gets home from work! I want to be a poet when I grow up."John chuckled warmly, his transparent form hovering closer to the desk. "That's wonderful, Philip. Your father will be so proud." He leaned against the desk, peering down at the poem. "What's it about?"
"Um.. well, mainly saying how I'm good at rhyming and how nobody else can write how I do. And how I.." He got quieter. "How I want a little brother. Mama asked me what I wanted for my birthday, but I didn't tell her that part. So I guess it's a surprise for both of them!" The boy signed his name at the bottom of the paper using the calligraphy skills he had learned in boarding school to make it look fancy. He got up while folding the paper and put it in his pocket, then he looked at Mr. John with a smile on his face although one tooth was missing from his top row.
John smiled back, his form flickering. He noticed the missing tooth and chuckled gently. "Looks like you've had a little accident there, haven't you?" He ruffled the boy's hair, his ghostly touch like a cool breeze. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Philip giggled a bit just as his mother, Eliza, called From downstairs; "Philip!! Your father is home!!"
Philip's face lit up with excitement as he blew out the candle on his desk and ran downstairs, jumping into his father's arms and hugging him.Alexander put his son down after a moment and ruffled his hair, "Hey pip, how was the day?" Philip replied, "Good! I wrote a lot today." Alexander put down his briefcase and went over to his wife and daughter, "Oh yeah? About what?" He gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and his sweet daughter a kiss on the forehead.
Eliza walked over and put the baby, Angie, in her bassinet; giving Pip a wink as she walked past him, "Alexander, Philip has been practicing all day to show you something. Ready hunny?" Philip nodded and took a deep breath while getting out his poem from his pocket. John's ghostly gaze softened as he witnessed the warm interplay between the Hamiltons. He hovered next to Angie, silently keeping her calm and quiet so Philip could have his moment.
"Daddy, Daddy look!!" His mother started beatboxing, earning a stare from his father and a little giggle as he spoke, "My name is Philip, I am a poet. I wrote this poem just to show it. And I, just turned nine...You can write rhymes but you can't write mine!"
"What!" Alexander said, hyping up his son and kneeling down to his level and slightly bopping to Eliza's beat. "I practice French and play piano with my mother! I have a sister but I want a little brother! My daddy's trying to start America's Bank, Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq !!"
John chuckled as he listened to the performance and Philip's lively rhymes. He observed Alexander's encouraging reactions and Eliza's beatboxing, enjoying the happy chaos. The family congratulated Philip, Alexander gave him a hug and spoke, "You are going to blow us all away one day. I can't wait to see it happen." Philip gave him a toothy smile and ran off to the dinning room for his birthday meal.
