Shawn the Shadow
 

Shawn the shadow

Walking to the bus stop this morning, I ran into a familiar face. Familiar, but not the same face I remembered.

His name is Shawn. The first time I met him was a few weeks after moving to downtown Los Angeles. It was a Saturday morning.

He looked to be around 19-20 years old. Sort of a skater boy without the board. He seemed healthy enough to take what came his way. He lives on the street.

He asked me for 50 cents. I gave him a few dollars and his smile and thank you held all the enthusiasm of a young child on Christmas morning.

He thanked me several times, fist-bumped me and then shook my hand. He told me his name was Shawn and said thank you again. I told him my name is Sheldon and I wished him a better day.

Over the next few months, I'd run into him several more times. Always during the day. Sometimes in the mornings, sometimes in the afternoons, but always in the daylight. He always remembered my face but not my name. He'd ask for 50 cents, I'd hand him another few dollars and it was Christmas morning all over again.

Again he'd tell me, "I'm Shawn", fist-bump, hand shake, more thanks. I'd tell him again, "I'm Sheldon" and wish him a good day again.

I hadn't seen Shawn for several months. I saw him this morning at 4:30am on my way to the bus stop, going to work. No sun shining this time. He's not the same Shawn.

He's lost weight he didn't have to lose. He had cuts or sores on his lower lip. His energy has left him. He didn't remember my face this time.

But he asked me for 50 cents again. Again I gave him a few dollars. Again he thanked me several times. But Christmas morning is over.

His enthusiasm is as much a shadow of what it once was as he is. He told me "I'm Shawn". In my mind, I thought, "no, you aren't anymore".
But I said, "I'm Sheldon" Softer fist bump, weakened hand shake. "Take care Shawn and have a good day." I told him. He wished me a good day too.

And off I went to my bus stop, thinking I'll probably not see Shawn many more times.

As I got to my bus stop, there was another man there, waiting to cross the street. Maybe 60 years old, short and heavy. I'd never seen him before.

"Hi. How are you?" He said to me.

I'm doing fine, thanks. How are you?

we are none of us who we were even yesterday

go where the day takes you

of course you must

Most Shawns burn out pretty quickly, but their numbers are still increasing every damn day. Every one is a story, similar, but unique.