Raise a Glass to Freedom

I am a poet

Dear John Laurens,
I'm nine years old now! Daddy says that I need to practice writing letters to people so I'm going to write letters to you even though you're dead. You don't have to read them. I guess you can't. Today I practiced a new piano song with my mom but I don't really like it because it's too hard. I always change the melody. Daddy says this is called an introduction paragraph and I should ask you how you're doing. But you're dead so I'm not going to.

One time, when I was just a little kid (I'm a big kid now), I was in Daddy's room and I found a box that had your name on it. There was a bunch of letters in it but Daddy wouldn't let me read them. But then he read all the letters by himself, which was no fair! He seemed kind of sad after that. He seems kind of sad whenever someone mentions you. Sometimes he even gets sad when someone talks about when he was an aide for general Washington. He'll get kind of quiet and want to be left alone. It's kind of weird. You two must have been really good friends!

Daddy has been working so much lately. Mom and Aunt Angelica have been telling him to take a break but he won't listen to them. He should have to go in time-out for not following directions. He writes all day in his room. Mom and Aunt Angelica say that we can go to Pennsylvania for a vacation, even if Daddy doesn't want to go. I hope he'll be able to get a lot of writing done.

Daddy says this is called a closing paragraph and I should ask for you to write back soon but you're dead, so I'm not going to.

Sincerely,

Philip Hamilton

___________________________

Dear John Laurens,
It's been a while since I've written to you. I don't know why I'm doing it now, maybe because I feel like I can say anything here because no one will ever read it. Things haven't been so great around here recently. Dad hasn't really come out of his room much since he published the Reynolds Pamphlet. I don't think he's even talked to me about it. Mom has been burning a lot of his letters. She hasn't talked to me about it either. It hurts to imagine my father, alone that summer so long ago, betraying my mother's unconditional trust.  I heard Angelica shouting at him a few days ago. I don't think my dad has said anything since.

Remember those letters I talked about in my first letter to you? Yeah, I found them again and this time I read them.  Did you date my father? I read the letters with my younger brother, John. He wanted to destroy the letters in case someone found them but I had a feeling that it would break my fathers heart if anything happened to the letters. He still loves you more than anything, you know that right? He loves you more than anything else in this world. He hasn't been the same since you died, even though it's been years. He used to be much more expressive with his emotions and there would be these random good days where he would just seem happy for no reason. Now he just seems kind of sad all the time.

When John and I read your letters to him, I have to admit, I was surprised. My dad used to talk about you a lot but he never portrayed you as anything more than a good friend. I suppose that was what was best for both of your safety. I've read the letters he wrote to Mom and Angelica and there's nothing in there quite like he wrote to you. He's romantic with Mom but with you it's like he can't doesn't even have the words to describe you. Imagine, Alexander Hamilton having nothing to say.

Sincerely,

Philip Hamilton

___________________________

Dear John Laurens,
Tomorrow I will duel George Eacker. I haven't told anyone this, but I'm really really scared. Dad says that I'm supposed to aim my gun at the sky and not shoot. I don't quite get how that's supposed to stop him from shooting but he seems pretty insistent that it will work. I guess I do want to duel him and protect my family's honor. I'm a Hamilton with pride, nobody gets to insult my family like that. The duel is tomorrow morning at dawn, I'm sitting at my desk writing this at midnight because I can't sleep. What if this is my last nigh alive? I know I should be optimistic but I can't shake the feeling that George Eacker is going to shoot.

I looked through the boxes of stuff from my childhood yesterday. I don't know why I suddenly felt compelled to do it. I saw my old piano books that I used when I was nine. I remember practicing piano with Mom and Dad, we'd all sit together at the piano bench and it seemed like nothing could ever go wrong. Ha. I miss those times. I found a poem I wrote to show to my dad when I was nine, it was about how I was a poet and I practiced French and piano and I wanted siblings. Well I got 7 siblings and they can be really annoying. Looking through the boxes of all the stuff from when I was nine made me want to be back there more than anything, to be able to just have fun and be free of all responsibilities. Anyway... I guess I'll write another letter if I'm alive tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Philip Hamilton

Ouch, my heart. Poor Philip!! It's finally mid-winter break, which is awesome. School can be so overwhelming. I drew this drawing of historical Hamilton and Laurens:

You can see my other work on Instagram: @angelicaaa.eliza.and.peggy
Thanks for reading,

Cather