This year, I am thankful for almost everything, really.
I'm thankful for being home again. I'm thankful for deadlines, which mean that I'm likely to keep a roof over my head for a while. I'm thankful for a great agent, and some damned fine editors and publishers who have a great deal of faith in me, and I'm thankful for the readers who seem to want to hear my stories. Thank you. Thank you.
I'm thankful for good friends, here and abroad, including ones who turn me on to very strange new music. I'm thankful for family. I'm thankful for living in The Future (tm), which improves my life enormously.
I'm thankful that there are signs that the nation whose holiday I celebrate today--a nation I love, for all its flaws, and whose ideals I believe in quite passionately--is coming to its collective senses.
And I am sorrowful that my own current state of reasonable and quite-unreasonable happiness is not something I can easily share with those who are at risk in time of war today, whether they be far from hearth and kin, or whether the threat of violence has followed them home.
Whenever your harvest may be, Thanksgiving is--to my mind--North America's finest holiday.
May all our harvests be cause for celebration, eventually.