It’s almost a new year, but I hope all of you are busy still enjoying your holidays and squeezing out the last bit of goodness in 2011. I, for one, am taking a break from stuffing every last morsel of delicious food made by some member of my family into my mouth. A season of culinary riches, it most certainly was.
This week, I thought I’d let you in on a little tradition of mine, one that was passed down to me from my mother . . . and yes, it involves a book. Every year over the holidays just before New Year’s Eve, I reread Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet. I’ve been doing this since I was about to turn 13—the age I was when my mom first read a portion of the book aloud to me. While I was too young at the time to read and fully understand the whole of the book myself, I still remember listening to the beautiful poetry in Gibran’s words, thinking about their significance and desperately trying to apply them to my own version of what life might be. I’m still finding new meaning in his words so many years later. That’s the beauty of the book—its impact changes over time.
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Alexis Burling 