We were driving down a particularly exciting section of road in Glacier National Park when Rocky confessed something to us.
“Ahem. Hey, guys,” he said, “…after all this time together, I have to tell you that I haven’t been completely honest about myself. I’ve been hiding something from you. I’m not who you think I am. I’m not Rocky. I’m really CoCoVan … I’m a woman.”
“Coq au vin?” we asked, wondering if he was referring to the French dish made of chicken and wine. Maybe he had overheard us daydreaming about food earlier?
“No, it’s pronounced similarly, but my name is really CoCoVan … The French Ingénue, when I’m onstage.”
Well, we weren’t sure exactly what to say at this delicate moment, but we ensured Rocky/CoCoVan that we have and would continue to love him/her, whoever he/she was. CoCoVan has been great to us for nine months and we want her to feel comfortable being herself around us.
Since our little talk, CoCoVan has been letting it all out. She’s really going wild and reveling in her new identity. It’s wonderful to see. Yesterday, as I turned the key in the lock, I heard her whisper, “Thanks for accepting me for what I am.” I gave her a little pat, and told her we needed to work on the smoking thing.