Dear, Hamilton

We Know

Phillip, my eldest child and son, all grown up.

Tears spring to my eyes at the sight of him before me, and I drop to my knees, my skirts billowing around me, as I hold my arms out.

"Are you not going to give your mother a hug?" I ask, trying to make my voice sound lighthearted, but it's hard when I have so many emotions coursing through me.

This is the very child that had me throwing up nearly every morning for the first few months, and then exhausted me in the later months. Phillip was the one I had labored over for seven and a half months.

If only I had stayed in Philadelphia in 1781 for one and a half more months instead of time traveling forward, I might have been able to hold him properly as a baby. Instead, I have to settle for the brief hug he gives me before he draws back.

"Are you crying, mom?" he asks, his wide, innocent eyes filling with worry.

I shake my head and try at a smile. "No, I'm just happy to see you."

Phillip only nods before turning to Angelica and volunteering, "I'll play piano with you."

Angelica beams and exclaims eagerly, "Yes! Come on, come on!"

She grabs his hand and begins tugging him to the room behind Hamilton and me where the piano is located. I rise to my feet and smile at them as they pass, trying to memorize their young faces in case— or when— I travel again.

I had only traveled twelve years, so I still have eight more years to go.

Hamilton's hand finds mine, and he whispers in my ear, "Come outside with me. We can walk around downtown."

I nod and together we head down the stairs. "Who will watch the children?" I ask, glancing around the house in search for any servants or other adults as we reach the front door.

"We have a couple of servants," Hamilton tells me as he shrugs on a black coat that ends mid-thigh.

He hands me a coat of my own that's a light blue color, and I put it on before we go outside.
When I step out the door, I freeze in my tracks at the sight before me. We're still in Philadelphia because I can spot Independence Hall from here, but it's certainly not the same Philadelphia as the one from 1781.

For one, there are more buildings surrounding us. Philadelphia used to be four blocks, but now it has to be at least eight or even ten blocks. In addition, the city appears to be even wealthier. The buildings are nicer, the streets are a bit cleaner, and the people are all dressed in their finest.

I look closer at one particular building that has a sign that reads Chamber of Congress.

That's when it hits me: Philadelphia is the new capital. All of a sudden a sentence from one of my notes on Hamilton resurfaces, and I can picture the sentence written down on the paper in my mind as if the notes were right in front of me.

Hamilton secretly met with Thomas Jefferson and James Madison to negotiate a deal. The deal was that Jefferson and Madison would support Hamilton's banking plan if the capital was temporarily moved from New York City to Philadelphia while the new capital by the Potomac River was being built. The new capital would be farther south, which would please the Virginians.

I don't realize I've stopped on the first step in front of our front door until Hamilton prompts from the bottom step, "Eliza?"

I move my eyes away from this new city to his face and say as I walk down the rest of the steps to him, "You negotiated with Jefferson and Madison didn't you? That's why Philadelphia is the new capital."