Kim Bongiorno Quotes

From the moment I was first pregnant, and those around me insisted that treats such as cold cuts and nail polish could cut my unborn child's potential IQ in half, I got into the habit of NOT seeking out the little things that brought me joy. Like soft cheese. And getting too close to a Starbucks.Then my son came, and I was too busy crying while searching for his User Manual to consider a manicure or massage.I lasted about a week as a new mom before reaching out to others in my situation online. As exhausted, cranky, and confused as I was, I needed friends. It didn't take long for this gaggle of desperate, sleepless women to meet up in person...
Kim Bongiorno
Hey, Melissa-is there anything I should know about having this kid that isn't in the books I've been reading?"Sunlight streamed through the window, making the golden, hormone-induced mutton chops glisten upon my cheeks. As I waited for her answer, I thumbed through the glossy parenting magazines on her kitchen table.A candle flickered by the sink, adding sweetness to the spit-up scented air that was gutting punched in the face by a diaper change...
Kim Bongiorno
She stared at the faded tile floor before her feet, but knew his every step around her small kitchen. When Martin touched the coffee cup patterned curtains he must assume she’d made, her fingers throbbed. When his eyes slid across the flowery aluminum water bottle at the table, her throat cracked with thirst.The radio clicked off.The silence of the room soaked up her raspy breaths, her pounding heart, her ache, and stirred them around the one man she ever longed for in a way that changes how you taste the world.Her desire swirled in a pulsing, betraying, blurry hook, and encouraged him to move closer.Martin obeyed.
Kim Bongiorno
Boney freckled knees pressed into bits of bark and stone, refusing to feel any more pain.Her faded t-shirt hugged her protruding ribs as she held on, hunched in silence.A lone tear followed the lumpy tracks down her cheek, jumped from her quivering jaw onto a thirsty browned leaf with a thunderous plop.Then the screen door squeaked open and she took flight.Crispy twigs snapped beneath her bare feet as she ran deeper and deeper into the woods behind the house. She heard him rumbling and calling her name, his voice fueling her tired muscles to go faster, to survive.He knew her path by now. He was ready for the hunt.The clanging unbuckled belt boomed in her ears as he gained on her.The woods were thin this time of year, not much to hide behind. If she couldn’t outrun him, up she would go.Young trees teased her in this direction, so she moved east towards the evergreens.Hunger and hurt left her no choice, she had to stop running soon.She grabbed the first tree with a branch low enough to reach, and up she went.The pine trees were taller here, older, but the branches were too far apart for her to reach. She chose the wrong tree.His footsteps pounded close by.She stood as tall as her little legs could, her bloodied fingers reaching, stretching, to no avail. A cry of defeat slipped from her lips, a knowing laugh barked from his.She would pay for this dearly. She didn’t know whether the price was more than she could bear. Her eyes closed, her next breath came out as Please, and an inky hand reached down from the lush needles above, wound its many fingers around hers, and pulled her up.Another hand, then another, grabbing her arms, her legs, firmly but gently, pulling her up, up, up. The rush of green pine needles and black limbs blurred together, then a flash of cobalt blue fluttered by, heading down.She looked beyond her dangling bare feet to see a flock of peculiar birds settle on the branches below her, their glossy feathers flickered at once and changed to the same greens and grays of the tree they perched upon, camouflaging her ascension.Her father’s footsteps below came to a stomping end, and she knew he was listening for her. Tracking her, trapping her, like he did the other beasts of the forest.He called her name once, twice. The third time’s tone not quite as friendly.The familiar slide–click sound of him readying his gun made her flinch before he had his chance to shoot at the sky. A warning. He wasn’t done with her.His feet crunched in circles around the tree, eventually heading back home.Finally, she exhaled and looked up. Dozens of golden-eyed creatures surrounded her from above. Covered in indigo pelts, with long limbs tipped with mint-colored claws, they seemed to move as one, like a heartbeat. As if they shared a pulse, a train of thought, a common sense.“Thank you,” she whispered, and the beasts moved in a wave to carefully place her on a thick branch.
Kim Bongiorno