A Loss for Words

Something’s wrong with the world

Photo by Bill Adler

“Mommy, Daddy, my brain itches.” Elizabeth rested her fork on her plate and took a drink of chocolate milk.

“You mean your head itches, pumpkin pie.” Her father’s lips curled into a wise, fatherly smile. “Your brain can’t actually itch, but the skin outside can and often does.” He winked at Lou. She was the doctor, he the stockbroker, but now and then he felt comfortable offering a medical opinion.

“Your dad’s right, sweetie.” Lou narrowed her eyes. “Where does it itch?” When she mouthed lice at Dan, his smile evaporated. The bugs were going around Elizabeth’s fifth-grade class.

“Inside,” Elizabeth said. She pointed her two forefingers at her head and moved them around. “Like in the middle.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, just itches.” Elizabeth drew in a long breath. “But I know why.”

“Okay,” Dan said. “Why?”

As if on cue, Limbo, their dachshund, padded under the dining room table. He sniffed and locked eyes with Lou, Dan, and Elizabeth, before sitting next to Elizabeth’s chair. She was the one most likely to give him dinner scraps. Elizabeth pointed to Limbo and asked, “What’s this?”

Lou tilted her head toward the floor. “You mean Limbo?”