“On the count of three, look up,” says our guide when we stop shuffling our feet, not looking up just yet and nearing the edge of the Grand Canyon’s South Rim. The view stuns us into silence. Bands of rock layers predating human history in shades of red, cream, and gold stand against the sunny blue summer sky. Tourists maneuver phones to try to capture the majesty, but we already know no picture will do this experience justice. “It doesn’t look real—it’s like a painting,” says my son, Crosby, age nine. I squeeze his hand and nod. It is early June, our two boys are both fresh out of school for the summer, and my husband Wesley and I are thrilled to be with them as we experience this moment together.