By Alexandra Kuykendall
While Alexandra Kuykendall grew to become a mom it was once the start of a soul-searching trip that took her into her previous and made her query every thing she'd experienced--and loads of what she hadn't. the one daughter of a unmarried, world-traveling mom and an absent artist father, Alexandra stocks her detailed quest to respond to common questions: Am I lovely? Am I enjoyed? Am I loving?
In brief, relocating episodes, Alexandra transports readers right into a existence that incorporated a early life in Europe, a non secular conversion marked extra through questions than solutions, a courtship in the course of a choice to be with teenagers, marriage and motherhood--and continuously, regularly, the query of id. via her own trip, girls will become aware of their very own route to realizing the form in their lives and a deeper experience of God's intimate presence inside of it.
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Extra info for Artist's Daughter, The: A Memoir
Who wouldn’t leave me. He wanted to do it right. How could I not be okay with that? Besides, I was looking at colleges, getting ready to leave home, and now she wouldn’t be alone. She and I both knew change was ahead anyway. I was ready to move out of the violet-lined room. They married that summer as I got ready for my senior year of high school. iii PERFECTION Spring came, and like any senior about to graduate, I was excited and terrified. It felt as though middle and high school were all aimed at preparing for what was next: college.
I picked them both up and threw them as hard as I could at the wall. I felt the anger in my legs, arms, fingertips. It wanted to burst open, and I was confused by it. My mom came running in after me, giving me what I wanted: someone’s attention. But really, her attention was something I already had. I wanted his. “I don’t know. Calm down,” she pleaded. ” That was true. The crack had been forced open when I met my father face-to-face. The color of my eyes and the dark circles under them were a reflection of his.
Traveled. Confident. Beautiful. I saw those qualities in me because I saw them in her. Right before my second birthday, we left Barcelona for an island off Seattle. We arrived in America just in time to celebrate the country’s bicentennial. My mom has a picture of me on a rocky beach, standing next to a piece of driftwood, waving a little American flag on a stick and wearing all red, white, and blue. A few of our years on the island, we lived with a man I called Daddy. ” His breakup with my mother was also his breakup with me.