By Alexandra Kuykendall
While Alexandra Kuykendall turned a mom it was once the start of a soul-searching trip that took her into her earlier and made her query every little thing she'd experienced--and loads of what she hadn't. the single daughter of a unmarried, world-traveling mom and an absent artist father, Alexandra stocks her distinctive quest to respond to common questions: Am I cute? Am I enjoyed? Am I loving?
In brief, relocating episodes, Alexandra transports readers right into a lifestyles that integrated a early life in Europe, a religious conversion marked extra through questions than solutions, a courtship in the middle of a choice to be with bothered adolescents, marriage and motherhood--and continually, continually, the query of identification. via her own trip, girls will notice their very own route to realizing the form in their lives and a deeper experience of God's intimate presence inside it.
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Additional resources for Artist's Daughter, The: A Memoir
She was in her twenties and lived with her boyfriend. She probably wasn’t interested in Nancy Drew or Chinese jump rope. She bent down so we were looking eye to eye. We did the same thing I did with our father at first meeting—searched each other for something familiar, something that confirmed that we were tied together. I couldn’t say anything if I’d wanted to. She spoke Spanish and Catalan. I spoke English and Italian. The language barrier freed us to simply look and smile while the monkeys squawked in the background.
Your fingers, they are long,” he said with pride. I didn’t answer, not sure what the proper response was. “Thank you” didn’t seem right. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mother’s excellent posture. His gaze moved from the top of my head down and across my face from ear to ear. He was searching me. Did he need, as I did, to find something familiar in the person in front of him? “Your eyes. They’re so blue,” he said. No surprise. A remark I often got at first meetings. Then he said something I will never forget.
Today I’m grateful I don’t have sons so I don’t have to watch them be tortured by girls like me. I wasn’t malicious or even intentional; I was just too wrapped up in my own need for affection to think about what my flirting might do to the boys around me. I wanted to know if I could capture their attentions. And once I did, the challenge was over and I moved on. I wanted male love—and I wanted some control. ” In 1980, Newsweek magazine published a cover article that said college-educated women in their forties who had never been married were more likely to be killed by terrorists than to marry.