Can You Hear Me Now?

I am not one for keeping secrets. I guess that's obvious!

I grew up in a family that had plenty of material for secrets, but I didn't choose to keep them. I put things out there as soon as they happened: My dad left. He was crazy. He ran off with all our money, plus a lot of other people's money. My mom dates bad guys. Want to come over and play? I was ten when I started having the fodder for secrets and choosing instead to tell my own stories first and loudest.

I am not an exhibitionist, it's just that I don't prefer people whispering behind my back.

The rooster gets talked about. I don't think he cares, and it's not what is important, but I do prefer when I'm the one talking about him, first and loudest. I tell his truths, good and bad, not to expose him, but to help him, and to protect him. Saying that my son has autism does not hurt him, because it is his truth, and you know what the they say about the truth setting you free -- I believe in that. If that is what people are talking about, I guess I'm fine with that. The rooster gets whispered about sometimes anyway.

The rooster is not a bad boy. Anyone who says so better whisper, very quietly, so quietly that I can't hear them, or they better run. I hope I said that loud enough.