I sit alone in my dining room on this gray, foggy Thanksgiving morning, wrapped in silence, feeling warm and thoughtful, and pondering the things for which I feel thankful.
My thoughts turn first to my children. I have felt, from the beginning, that who my children are is almost completely beyond my control. So when I reflect that I like them and feel proud of them, I feel blessed. I enjoy their company, and they enjoy mine. It is sometimes a little annoying that I have to chase them out of my bedroom to have a little peace, but how much worse it would be if they never wanted to be with me or were afraid to jump on me. I am pleased that they seem happy, and that they all have friends who like them. I am pleased that they all have their own interests and don't seem to care what the rest of the world is into. They are all fascinating people, and the older ones show every sign of growing into fascinating adults.
I am thankful for my marriage, and that after twenty years together I still really like to be with my wife.
I am thankful for my friends, but wish they lived closer.
I am thankful for the internet.
I am thankful for the intellectual richness of the world I live in, full of books, magazines, images, essays, ideas, discoveries, and every other kind of fodder for thought and wonder.
I am thankful for November roses, and the rain that made this a green and lovely year.
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