Never Annie
by Anne Born

Annie Nannie Anita — Anne
For four generations, someone in my mother’s family
Was named Anne.

Born into a family of women,
Born with a hand-me-down name,
In the end, I was the only one never to suffer a nickname.

For just one day, just once
My grandfather called me his little Nancy
And I felt special, unique, only, new.

And yet, when I order my
Frappuccinos with whipped cream at Starbucks now,
I tell them my name is Lucy.

PHOTOGRAPH: Anne Born in her very own personal district of Barcelona, Spain (2009).

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: My name is too short. I always wanted something lingering, graceful. It was only when Ian Fleming’s stories took hold that I realized my name sounded like a spy. Born, Anne Born. I don’t care for Martinis, but if I did, I would like them shaken, not stirred. BORN

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Anne Born is a New York-based writer who has been writing stories and poetry since childhood.  She blogs on The Backpack Press and Tumbleweed Pilgrim and her writing focuses on family and life in a big city after growing up in a small one.  She is the author of A Marshmallow on the Bus, and Prayer Beads on the Train. Anne is a photographer who specializes in photos of churches, cemeteries, and the Way of St. James in Spain. Most of her writing is done on the bus.  Find out more at You can follow Anne on Wattpad, Instagram, and Twitter at @nilesite.