Sometimes we chase inspiration on the other side of the world. This spring, I found it just a few hours from home.

It had been more than twenty-five years since I'd done any real sightseeing in Washington, D.C.—the obligatory middle school trip. Aside from a few visits to see friends after college, I hadn't really experienced the city as an adult. Certainly not as a mother.

When my 8-year-old son had an extended school break that didn't align with his sister's (much to her dismay), it felt like the perfect excuse for a quick mother-son getaway. He's equal parts Energizer Bunny and professional question asker, so a packed itinerary was definitely in order.

Over the next four days, I watched him take it all in. He stood in the exact spot where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his "I Have a Dream" speech—a speech he'd just studied in school. His eyes grew wide as he realized the seemingly endless rows of white headstones at Arlington Cemetery represented lives lost in service to our country. He stared up in amazement at the historic aircraft suspended overhead at the National Air & Space Museum. We uncovered clues in Soviet Russia during our covert mission at the International Spy Museum. And we giggled as a baby gorilla at the zoo relentlessly poked its exhausted mother awake—a moment I related to more than I care to admit.

These four uninterrupted days with my son were a gift. We walked for miles. We ordered waffles to our room almost every morning. We asked big questions, talked about history, courage, and sacrifice. And on our final evening, as we walked to dinner, he looked up at me and said, "Mom, this has been the best trip."

Maybe it was the souvenirs. Maybe it was the gorillas. Maybe it was the waffles. Or maybe it was simply the gift of discovering something new together. We packed as much in as we possibly could, and somehow it still felt like we'd barely scratched the surface of everything Washington has to offer. I knew we'd be back.

At the same time, it also occurred to me that we’d barely scratched the surface of what America is. D.C. reminded me that this country has always been a work in progress—a nation built by dreamers, protected by extraordinary sacrifice, and shaped by people courageous enough to imagine something better. At a time when the headlines can feel heavy with uncertainty and extreme partisanship, it was exactly the perspective I didn't realize I needed. This trip gave me something I wasn't expecting: a renewed appreciation for our nation's history, for the people who built it, and hope for the generations who will continue to define its future.

As a travel advisor, I spend a lot of time encouraging people to explore the world. This reminded me that sometimes the experiences in our own backyard can be just as profound as those halfway around the globe.

As our nation prepares to celebrate its 250th year, I'm feeling especially grateful—not because our history is perfect, but because it's remarkable. It's a story of courage, resilience, sacrifice, and hope. And after exploring Washington with my son, I'm reminded how important it is to keep sharing that story with the next generation.

Some trips change the way we see the world. Others remind us how fortunate we are to call a small corner of it home.

Happy Fourth of July. 🇺🇸