Posted at 08:58h
in
Spirituality,
Writing
by ckrizik
Years back, my dear friend Annie gave me the nickname Pollyanna. As our friendship grew the endearment was truncated to Polly. While the moniker was offered with love, I accepted it with some trepidation because, to me, it seemed to come with a modicum of derision. In between the wry smile and tinge of jealousy was the suggestion that maybe I was in deep denial. I bore the chiding with a happy smile, as any good Polly would, but just below the surface was a
touch of embarrassment, like maybe I was delusional and everyone knew it but me.
In response to the good-natured mocking, I'd quip, “Yes, I broke my leg and
