You know, every once in a while you find yourself in the perfect moment.

Last Thursday night, I met some friends to eat great seafood. Then, as the sun was beginning to lower, we moved outside to the deck overlooking the lake and listened to an incredible acoustical set; just a guy and his guitar.

A table under a large umbrella, slight breeze, metal buckets full of ice and beer, great friends that make you laugh so hard you're afraid you'll pee your pants, and, just as the sun dips over the water, making reds, crimsons, fiery oranges, vibrant yellows, and colors never captured by the Impressionists, the singer breaks into Van Morrison's "Brown-Eyed Girl" and you sing along with the chorus.

And the true gift isn't the perfection of the evening. The gift is the realization.