The Owl & The Bees

Shawn was not like other boys. At least not like the ones I knew.

He only ever showed up on two occasions, one, when I was visiting with my dad at his friend Dana's house, and two, whenever I was feeling alone.

The sun was getting low on a hot August evening. The air was so heavy and humid you could almost cut it with a knife.

The setting sun stretched its rays out along the field next to Dana's house. It was like one vast sea of gold. The tall grass was dancing and swaying. It kind of reminded me of the beach.

I was lying on the ground, staring at the clouds. My dad and Dana were drinking their beer and singing their favorite tunes while Dana strummed along on his guitar.

I enjoyed listening from afar. It was peaceful, laying in the tall grass, hidden in plain sight.

Something whizzed by overhead. It flew past so fast that it was nothing more than a brown blur. I sat up to look.

In the large oak tree in front of me, a beautiful barn owl had perched itself on a large branch.

I jumped up and onto my feet! If an owl was here that meant he was here.

I whipped around and there he was! Wearing that same mischievous grin, he always does whenever he sees me.

Every time the owl shows up, Shawn shows up.

He looks exactly the same every time I see him. Scruffy, dirty blond hair that had a slight wave to it and that baseball uniform. He always had that same dingy-looking uniform on. He was always carrying around a baseball and glove that looked like they had seen better days.

One other thing about him, he was covered in what looked like pox scars. He never would tell me what they were or how he got them. The question always seemed to make him sad, so I stopped asking.

We played catch for a while just before it started to get dark out. The sound of the crickets chirping added to the beautiful late summer ambiance.

We sat together for a little while under the oak tree. Spending time with Shawn was the highlight of my week. He was my best friend… my only friend. You tend to cherish that when you’re young and considered “the weird kid” both at school and home.

I could hear my dad calling my name from the porch. We had lost track of time and it was getting pretty dark by that point.

“I gotta go!”, I said with a little bit of panic in my voice. “I’ll see you next weekend?”

“You bet!”, he said.

I turned to look towards the porch and saw my dad waving his arm.

“Okay…”, I turned around to say goodbye, but Shawn was already gone.

Wow, he is fast, I thought to myself. A slight breeze picked up and I felt a little shudder down my spine. I shivered as I wrapped my arms around myself and ran to the porch.

The late summer days were passing by in a heartbeat and each day that I got to spend with Shawn was such a treasure. I looked forward to seeing that barn owl because it meant that he was near. The lazy days of summer, lying in the fields, playing catch, listening to the peepers and the crickets, watching the fireflies. These were the days that I would always cherish.

But on the last day, Shawn wasn’t there.

I waited for what felt like hours. I tried to keep myself occupied by reading a little and drawing in my sketchbook. I kept a close watch for the owl. And yet… nothing. The day was coming to a close and it was almost time to go home but still no owl and no Shawn.

I sat there in the tall grass for a while with a sinking feeling in my chest and tears streaming down my face.

I could hear my dad hollering my name from Dana’s front porch. I stood up and brushed the bits of dead grass off of my legs. I took one more look across the field as the sun sank further down the edge of the earth and still, Shawn wasn’t there.

As I walked up the steps to the front door, my dad noticed the streaks that my tears left on my face and my puffy, red eyes. “What’s the matter?”, he asked with a concerned look on his face.

I pulled the sleeve of my shirt down over my hand and wiped the tears from my face. “I was waiting for my friend and he never showed up.”, I muttered. “He’s always here when we come to visit! Why didn’t he show up today?"

“Who?!”, my dad asked with increasing concern. “Shawn, dad! He’s always here every single time that we visit Dana!”

My dad looked over at Dana, who by this time had stopped what he was doing.

They looked at each other for a minute and then at me.

My dad asked, “he’s always here? As in, outside playing with you?”

“Yeah dad, as in outside with me,” I said with a hint of sarcasm.

“What exactly did he look like?” Dana asked. He seemed a little freaked out.

I thought this question was a little odd, but I told them. “He wears a baseball uniform, he has scruffy blond hair, and he looks like he had chicken pox recently.”

Without saying a word, Dana slipped off into the other room. I looked at my dad, who also seemed a little freaked out and to be honest, I was starting to freak out a little.

My heart started to race as I waited forever for Dana to come back into the room.

After a few minutes, Dana returned with a baseball glove and a really old photo.

He handed me the photo and asked, “Is this Shawn?”

My jaw dropped and my eyes must have been the size of saucers. “Yes… that’s him.”

I looked up at Dana and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Shawn use to live here.”, Dana said. “He was the son of the former owners. This was his baseball glove. ”

Dana cleared his throat. “Um, Shawn died here. He was playing catch outside and the ball went through the attic window. When he went to get it… there was a bee's nest… he didn’t know he was allergic…”