A little bit like magic.

I have only been to Vermont once. I may never go back, because I'm a little afraid to spoil the absolutely perfect evening I spent there. Do you have those priceless moments? The ones that feel like a snowglobe, or a movie scene? That feel too pretty to be real while you're living them, and then become more fantastic as time passes?

A few years ago, I had a very sweet friend take me to upstate New York for a long weekend. We stayed at his grandfather's beautiful home, on a gorgeous lake. We ate amazing food, made cider by hand, took the boat out on Silver Bay. It was early fall- we carved pumpkins and wore sweaters and burned leaves in a fire. It was divine.

About halfway through our trip, his grandfather suggested we visit Vermont for the evening. We drove through tiny towns and looked at the autumn colors and took a ferry over a river to cross the state line. Then we meandered through farming villages, looking at fields of molten gold as the sun set. At dusk we made it to Middlebury.

It's a small town, as so many of the best towns are. It had a beautiful college that I suddenly wished I attended. We wandered through town, looking for somewhere to eat, and stumbled across an Inn that served dinner. We sat on a beautiful porch, overlooking their side lawn. There was a huge white tent with thousands of white lights, and a live band playing as a bride and groom danced their first dance.

It was idyllic.

The music floated. The food (my fist time eating duck!) was delicious. The conversation flowed at our table as we drank a bottle of wine and talked about things we'd do someday. Time stopped. For that night, for those hours, only that moment mattered.

I haven't kept in touch with the friend like I should have. I'm not even certain I thanked his grandfather properly for that beautiful gift of a weekend. But without fail, when I am lonely or sad, I go back to that night in Vermont in my mind:

The band played "The Way You Look Tonight." I was wearing jeans, a white top, and a friend's red scarf. The Inn glowed like a Christmas tree. And I was overwhelmed with a quiet joy because a moment and a place like that existed.

I hope you have those memories, too.

And if you'd like to visit the Inn, I recommend the Robert Frost suite. There are supposed to be dozens of letters from people who've stayed in the suite and had "moments" similar to mine.