(There is nothing special about Simon pt2)

Simon though gifted, has the simple failings of most of us. He lacks faith in himself and in his own abilities. He can do amazing things, but instead of being in awe of his gifts his modesty overwhelms him and turns that amazingly magical boy…into a regular Joe.

Science wants to explain away all of the beauty and mystery in the world and worlds of faith want to rob us of individual experiences as well. As creatures that want explanations, we bind ourselves to whichever propaganda is popular within our immediate tribe and suffer the greatest flaw of being human, the unwillingness to admit when our ideals are ever wrong.

In the end we see Simon, who can do an amazing things hide his ability due to fear.

From the day Simon was born he was told he was special, as he watched the world around him he learned that special wasn’t appreciated.

When I asked him about his gift with excitement, he became afraid.

For whatever reason it may be, primal or otherwise, Fear changes us. In essence it forms us.

Sadly it had already started to form Simon.

Simon was special after all, and bad things happen to special people.

So in the end Simon is average, to protect himself.

So to continue with the story…

“Simon, its okay to sing to the squirrels,” I say when I look into his eyes.” I used to do that myself”

Zoey and Simon looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then Zoey noticed an earthworm and her attention was drawn away yet again.

“Really?”

“I’ll bring the pictures out with me on my walk tomorrow”

Simon smiled, a few tears leaked out but we didn’t pay them any mind (I followed his lead on that one).

“You used to sing to the squirrels? What happened?”

“Well Simon, somewhere along the way, I forgot how.”

“Oh, that’s sad….very sad.”

Simon then stooped down to pet Zoey, and asked me rather meekly.

“You aren’t going to tell anybody, are you?”

“Now Simon, you know I am. A writer’s got to have a story and this is as good as any”

Simon laughed rather nervously and loud…

“Yes Simon, I’m writing about it”

He got rather silent, and I watched the fear creep over him again.

“It’s ok Simon; I’m just going to tell them what a normal average boy you really are.”

He relaxed and then let me know that was ok.

“Heck, I resurrected a few crickets in my time too”

Astonishment lit up his face.

“You did what?”

“I resurrected Crickets. It was a crazy game I played as a child. ”

“Amazing,” Spoke Simon “Can you still do that trick?”

“Oh I imagine I could, if I could get a cricket.”

Zoey decided we had been standing here to long and proceeded to drag me up the street and so I said goodbye to Simon and made a mental note to grab the photos out of my “Made in Mesquite” photo album. I knew I’d forget it honestly, but Simon already knew he’d have to remind me at least two more times before I remembered to bring them out with me anyways.

Nope, there is absolutely nothing special about Simon.

He is of average height, and an average build. He makes average grades in school and at sports and games he is average as well. He is average when he plays miniature golf with his family, and his singing in the church choir is average too.

He has average luck in raffles; He is average, plain and true.
What no one knows is Simon’s secret world, that place where few get to visit or ever dare to tread.
After all Simon can sing the squirrels from the trees, and not just in his imagination but the real world as well.

I’ve seen him do it.

Last Thursday evening, I was out walking Zoey. She had been cooped up inside most of the day inside of her kennel, and being an Italian Greyhound she had a lot of energy to get rid of. So here we were out on our daily drag, when Zoey notices all of the squirrels that are about. Zoey tested the limits of her tether by hopping about like she was having some kind of epileptic seizure; I believe I even witnessed a few black flips in this latest attempt at her homage to “The Matrix”.

Every time she does this I am tempted to let go of the leash and let her catch one again. She broke free of the leash when she was a puppy and caught a rather swift squirrel by the tail. Though she didn’t know what to do with the little varmint, it was a sight to behold.

I manage to get her attention back on the walk and we kept going around the block, when up ahead I saw Simon. Zoey hadn’t spotted her pal Simon yet and was content to lag behind me as she checked out the local Pee-mail along the way.

Simon was staring up into an old Mesquite tree, from the distance it kind of looked like he was talking to it. It was at this moment Zoey had found something of interest and decided to refuse to move any further until she got to check out whatever she had found. Being the well trained pet custodian I am, I let her investigate whatever it may be, after determining if it was safe or not.

As Zoey stalks the little hole in the ground (the ones that cicada nymph’s live in) I am closer to Simon than the last time and notice an odd bit of a tune drifting on the wind.

Putting 2 and 2 together, while Zoey snorts bursts of air through her nose into the little hole, I realize that Simon is singing to that old Mesquite tree. I chuckle a little bit, and then I see it. A swish of tail all bristled up. The hop, the slight glide in its steps as it skitters down the branches.

Simon is singing to the squirrel, and by the appearance of things it appears that the squirrel is listening.

I watch the squirrel’s ears seem to perk up as it edges its way closer to Simon, seemingly enthralled by Simon’s off-key (though magical) singing.

It was at that very moment, that Zoey lost interest in the little hole and noticed Simon… and then she noticed the squirrel.

For such a little dog, Zoey is very fast and has a mighty voice.

With a howl and a dash she dragged me off my feet directly toward Simon and the squirrel.

The squirrel bolted back into the twisted top of the mesquite tree, and Simon turned around to face us slightly blushing, but overjoyed to see Zoey yet again.

I let them get reacquainted for a bit, and told Simon that I had seen him charm the squirrel out of the tree.

“Oh that,” he replied nonchalantly,” that’s nothing special”

After which he proceeded to talk to me about how he wished he had a dog, but he couldn’t because his dad was allergic to dogs, even the hypoallergenic ones.

Like I said before, there isn’t anything special about Simon, and he likes it that way.