macaroni-and-jefferson-blog

[macaroni-and-jefferson-blog]

i love you.

just in case no one’s said it to you today. you deserve love and you are loved.

[macaroni-and-jefferson-blog]

Picture This:

The date is July 11, 2054. It is nearing dawn, and already people are lined up on the streets of New York. Not an odd sight, if it weren't for the placement.

Hundreds of people, dressed in shades of mourning black, line the blocks around the Trinity Church cemetery.

They are almost inhumanly silent, holding electric candles (don't want to catch anything on fire) and slowly but surely surrounding a monument in the cemetery.

The monument has not had this much attention since it was erected- and the man inside hasn't had this much praise or sorrow shown to him in over two hundred years. Two hundred and fifty, to be exact.

The crowd surrounds the monument, almost as if they are waiting, but for what? Many of the mourners aren't even sure. Are they expecting a miracle, for someone to rise from the dead?

But slowly, people emerge from the crowd. They don't have to push, or shove, or even speak; the sight of them causes many people to move.

Suddenly, one emerges at the front of the crowd. His posture isn't as strong as it used to be, and his face is wrinkled, but there is no disguising the bushy eyebrows and kind smile.

From his place in front of the crowd, the man softly begins singing:

"How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a scotsman..."

Slowly, more and more voices join in. First, the voices of those who used to sing those words, on stages across the country, across the world, to crowds similar to this one in size. Soon, however, it is not just the Aaron Burrs that are singing- every ex-cast member is being pulled to the front of the crowd.

Smiling sadly, the ex-presidents, -soldiers, -writers, -frenchmen, and all the rest, sing out, with the rest of the crowd:

"What's your name man?"

Everyone freezes, unsure of what comes next. It seems wrong to say the next line, as though it doesn't belong to them.

But a voice emerges from the crowd. It is not the same as it was some forty years ago, but the voice is unmistakable. A loud gasp erupts from the crowd as a man stands.

"Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton."

In front of that crowd stands the man who helped many of these people find their way with his music, and his kind words. In front of them stands a hero, who played the part of someone they have all come to respect. In front of them stands a father, a son, a husband, an activist, an immigrant. In front of them is someone who they have come to love, and who has shown them endless love in return.

Despite the wrinkles on his face and the hair that is now more grey than black, there is not a single person who doesn't recognise him.

In front of them stands Lin-Manuel Miranda, a hero, a life-saver, a lover.

"And there's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait."

[end scene]