'The Elephant Roars' by Jayne Martin

No one wanted to talk about the elephant in the room, except for the children who would talk of nothing else. We had adopted it when it was a baby, when we believed we could have no children of our own, when we believed our love for one another wasn’t enough. The toddler snoozes in the curve of its trunk, while the twins cling to its sturdy legs, sucking their thumbs well into their teens. You lie on the sofa, clutching the remote, only your feet visible under the pachyderm’s massive belly. I sit at my computer, chatting with wolves. The elephant roars, but nobody hears it.