Two years ago, I raised my right hand and became American πΊπΈ. This year, that flag turns 250. I didn't grow up here. I grew up in Lebanon where freedom was never guaranteed, where the ground could shift under you without warning, and where "stability" was a word you hoped for, not one you lived in. So when people ask me what freedom means, I don't answer in theory. I answer in memory. I've spent the best part of my life here now. And every single day, I'm reminded that what most of the world treats as impossible, safety, opportunity, the right to speak, build, and become; is something Americans get to wake up inside of every morning. That didn't happen by accident. Men and women served, bled, and sacrificed so that freedom could be ordinary here. So it could be boring. Unremarkable. Just... Tuesday. 250 years of that. To everyone who served thank you. You gave me a life I didn't inherit, but chose, and will never take for granted. Happy 4th of July. πΊπΈ PS. Celebrating this milestone with my community and book club that is FREE to join. My GIVE to you all.