Describe a gift you gave to someone.

The gift I'd like to talk about is a photo book I made for my parents' thirtieth wedding anniversary, about two years ago.
My brother and I had been debating what to get them for months. They're at the stage of life where they genuinely don't want more things — every gift idea we floated, we could already picture gathering dust. So instead of buying something, we decided to make something. We secretly collected photos from relatives, dug through old albums, and even got pictures from their university friends that they'd never seen. I put everything into a properly printed hardcover book, arranged as a timeline of their thirty years, with little captions and messages from family scattered through it.
When my mother opened it at the anniversary dinner, she went completely quiet, and then both of them sat there turning pages for an hour while the food went cold. My father, who is not remotely a sentimental man, kept it on the living-room table for months afterwards.
I chose it because the best gifts, I think, prove that someone paid attention. Anyone can spend money; the photo book showed thirty years of their life mattered to us.