My Dear Hamilton

by Stephanie Dray

Napoleon Bonaparte once said that history is merely a set of lies agreed upon,

Six arrows. The Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, Mohawk, Oneida, and Tuscarora. Together, they’d formed a confederacy older than Great Britain.

But any parent who has lost a child will tell you that grief is a monster less vanquished than held at bay. That, like love, survival is a choice to be made anew every morning, and sometimes one must pretend at being healed just to get through the day.