December 21, 1773 Dear Diary, Tis such a hard question indeed. I slept but not a wink last night. The question still lingered in my mind. Was I doing the right thing, following my parents and family, wanting to break away from the British and King George? Are the lousy redcoats right? Should remain under their rule, but participate in their government? Could Mother and Father possibly be wrong? I pondered the question until dawn when I awoke for the first on an endless list of chores. Mother called out my name, "Eliza, Eliza! Come eat your porridge. Hurry, it is getting cold!" I scrambled out from underneath my warm blanket that you to be my late Grandmother's. Father and my siblings were already at the table. Mother was by the hearth, ladling porridge into a bowl for herself. I went to my usual spot and begin to eat. Mother sat down. "Did you rest peacefully last night? You have dark circles beneath your eyes." I nodded. "I slept soundly, Mother." She looked at me questioningly, but I did not respond. I decided it was best to keep last night's ponderings to myself. I tried desperately to concentrate on my chores, to take my mind off of that haunting question. But it kept creeping into my mind. How would I feel if I was England? Surely I would want America to be part of the British Empire. They could live without tea, 'tis only a drink and if the Americans wanted it so badly, they could come back to England. I quickly tired to banish these wicked thoughts from my mind and begged the good Lord for forgiveness. I'm an American, I thought, Eliza Hutchinson, and I'm an American through and through.