You know how you grow up with these weird mental images of places you’ve never been? Like, you hear “Mount Rushmore” and picture four giant heads just chilling in a field like forgotten Easter Island statues. Or you hear “Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade” and imagine everyone in New York constantly tripping over inflatable Snoopy.
For me, it was the Reflecting Pool in Washington, D.C.
I had never been, but I was absolutely convinced that it was the biggest swimming pool in the world. Not “reflecting” like “thoughtful,” no. Reflecting, like, “the sun glints off my goggles while I do a killer backstroke past Abe Lincoln.”
It’s not like anyone corrected me. Honestly, that image just kind of… stuck
First Visit, All Grown Up
So when I finally made it to D.C. as an adult—on a trip with my now-husband—it was one of the first things I wanted to see. Somewhere between the museums and the monuments and the overpriced food carts, I found myself standing at the edge of the Reflecting Pool. For real. In person. Finally.
And wow. Yeah. It’s long. It’s shiny. It still looks like the world’s most sacred lap pool.
The Moment It Shifted
But you can’t laugh at it. Not really. Because almost immediately, that glimmer of childhood goofiness gets overtaken by something else: awe.
This pool isn’t just a pretty stretch of water between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. It’s a space that holds echoes.
Dr. King’s voice didn’t just disappear after he delivered “I Have a Dream” from the steps behind me—it’s still there. It lives in the air, the ground, the slight ripple of water disturbed by a duck or two. You can feel the energy of every footstep that’s marched alongside it. You can hear the silence of those who’ve stood there grieving, protesting, hoping. It’s a place of presence.
Swimming in Meaning
Suddenly, you’re not just looking at a landmark. You’re standing inside a moment.
Multiple moments, actually.
It’s a little overwhelming. And kind of beautiful.
I was struck by how glad I was that I didn’t come here on a chaotic childhood road trip. No distractions. No neon fanny packs. No begging for a snack. Just me, my husband, and the chance to experience the place fully.
That old mental image of it being a swimming pool? Not totally wrong, if you squint. It’s still a place people come to immerse themselves—just not in water.
In memory. In movement. In meaning.
Reflections Hit Different Now
So no, you can’t do a cannonball into the Reflecting Pool. But you can stand at the edge of it, heart wide open, and let it reflect something back at you.
And honestly? That feels even more powerful.
TL;DR:
Went to D.C., finally saw the Reflecting Pool. Thought it was for swimming as a kid. Turns out it’s actually for feeling every emotion you’ve ever had while staring at water and contemplating the state of the union. 10/10, would stand there again
*This post is from the travel archives 0f 2019
