I’m thankful for so many things. Especially now. Especially this Thanksgiving.

I’m thankful for my daughter. It’s a sublime gift to be the father of this brilliant, beautiful young woman.

I’m thankful for my good health.

I’m thankful for light; for the English language; for walking; travel; reading; Hemingway; museums; laughing; storms; for Paris; birds; learning, my body.

For gardening; the French language; poetry; outdoor showers; Maine; Flaubert’s letters; for the moon; The Great Gatsby; Southern food/soul food; my Smith-Corona Galaxie II manual typewriter; for cooking; my first apartment in New York on Tenth Street; music; M.F.K. Fisher; Giotto.

For van Gogh; French bookstores; the sound of rain; dogs; for New York City; driving down country roads; Isak Dinesen; fall, winter, spring, summer; the ocean; opera; the light in Provence; for writing; Deborah Attoinese; the struggle to make my book, French Dirt, the best book I could write.

For salt air; Ralph Ellison; a good baguette; my sister; snow falling down; road trips; for going to sleep when I’m exhausted; tea; kayaking; Van Morrison; the Frick Museum; for the Italian language; my bicycle; Michelin maps; François Truffaut; my daughter’s laugh; tall, slim pine trees; New Directions paperbacks; Tennessee Williams.

For old docks; books; going barefoot; etymology; James Baldwin; friendship; biscuits; work; identifying plants and trees; for New Orleans; porches; the songs of birds; Balzac.

For Cole Porter; West Fourth Street in New York City; libraries; the smell of hay; my wife’s gorgeous smile; for sweat; the Seine; Rome; my senses; the stillness of early morning; breasts; Pablo Neruda’s poetry.

For overcoming fear; for deep, pristine snow; water; wood, the smell and feel of it; herons and egrets; trains; a simple desk; for women’s rich, lavish hair; my brother; the rejuvenation sleep provides; Jean Rhys; coming home to someone you love; wetlands; Velázquez.

For a cast iron skillet; Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers; a good dictionary; lovemaking; Big Joe Turner; Evelyn Waugh; for the Cevennes; rock ‘n’ roll; full lips; seeing my daughter born, holding her for the first time; for Joseph Conrad; Marcel Pagnol; Manon, our dog; my memory; pecan pie; for Ms. Booth, Ms. Benson, Ms. Shugrue and Ms. Carley, all the teachers who were so kind to my young daughter.

For Langston Hughes; Greenwich Village; Verdi; warblers; kindness; pastrami; bookstores; belly laughs; for breathing; Lucinda Williams; the smell of suntan lotion at the beach; dusk; strong coffee; Ray Charles; for brilliant sunsets; Elizabeth Bishop; Central Park; Wellfleet oysters; stretching; friends’ voices; affection; holding hands with the woman I love; the release of crying; John Lennon; truth.

And, especially, this Thanksgiving, for my wife, for Gaywynn.