Is age the determining factor in being able to do something? If you were younger, would things happen differently?

 

You wish you were younger. However, . . .

 

 

Some Things Don’t Change With Age

 

     My alarm clock blared. I reached over to the nightstand and shut it off. Why I set it in the first place was a mystery to me. I had no place to go this morning—no doctor’s appointment. Sun peeked through the bedroom windows. I began to get out of bed. I had to pee badly. As I did     . . .

     “Oh my God!” I screeched. The pain in my back was awful. And it shot down my left leg. My knee was numb and my foot cramped.

     Today is my birthday, I thought. I’m seventy-nine years old. “What the hell was I thinking, when I wished for a long life?” I muttered.

     “You were thinking living long was a good thing. As you know, I lived to ninety.”

     “Huh. Who are you?”

     “Who am I? Are you serious? We were together for fifty-six years.”

     “I’ve been divorced three times. Nobody’s been in my life that long.”

     “You’ve always been slow to realize the obvious.”

     “What are you talking about?”

     “Stop staring at your cramped foot. It won’t help the pain go away. Just look up.”

     In slow motion, I raised my head, somewhat afraid of what I would see. “You’re not her, are you?” I yelled in disbelief.

     “Well, what do you know? You finally got it. Took you long enough.”

     “What’re you doing here, Mom? You’ve been dead for thirteen years.”

     “Dead is an outdated concept. In a world of advanced technology, I’m able to do what I want to do and be where I want to be.”

     “And you wanted to be here?”

     “You were never capable of doing things on your own. And apparently, you still can’t. So I’m here to give you the opportunity to change your life.”

     “This must be a dream. This can’t be happening.”

     “Ow! Something pinched me.”

     “Not something, someone.”

     “Who?”

     “Me. Do I have to give you all the answers?”

     This was getting weirder by the moment. “Okay, you’re back and there’s nothing I can do about it. Growing up you always were my boss and I couldn’t do anything right.”

     “You’ve got that wrong. You chose me to be your mother. That was right.”

     “Chose you?” I gasped.

     “Let’s put the past behind us and move on,” she directed.

     “That would be fine with me. Nice seeing you, Mom, Maybe we’ll run into each other again some time. Good-bye, I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

     “I’m not finished and I’m not going anywhere until I am.”

     “I could never win growing up and things certainly haven’t changed. So, boss, you’re in charge. Go for it.”

     “By the way, ‘Happy Birthday.”

     “Thank you,” I moaned.

     “How old would you want to be today, if you had a choice?”

     “I haven’t thought about it, because I know I don’t.”

     “But now you do, so?”

     “I don’t know,” I said in frustration.

     “Well, you’re seventy-nine. Add the two numbers together.”

     “All right. Seven plus nine. That’s sixteen.”

     “I knew forcing you to take that advanced Math class was the right thing to do.”

     “So, I’m sixteen? But I don’t want to go back in time. I was dumped by my girlfriend and failed my driving test twice.”

     “No, you’re not going back anywhere. You’re sixteen today—November 13, 2023.”

     Before I had a chance to reply, Mom disappeared. I started to wiggle around on the edge of the bed. My body felt strange. I put my hand on my face to scratch my beard, but it wasn’t there. I wasn’t in my bedroom and I didn’t have to pee.

     I walked over to the mirror on the closet door. What I saw blew me away. I was taller and much better looking than I’d ever been. I didn’t have a pain in my body. And staring at me from my dresser was my provisional California driver’s license.

     A state-of-the-art computer sat on my desk, with my cell phone sitting beside it. And it wasn’t the “Jitterbug Smart3” for seniors I’d just purchased from Best Buy two days ago.

     With a new world and a new life ahead of me, I headed toward the kitchen. Sitting at the table was a girl I’d never seen before. When I entered, she turned and said, “Good morning little bro.”

     This was strange, because my “real” sister was two years younger than me. I muttered, “Good morning.”

     She looked me in the eye and stated, “Have you told Mom and Dad what you didn’t do for them?”

     “What I didn’t do for them?” I asked, somewhat confused.

     “You said you’d pick up the Thanksgiving turkey that they’d ordered from Safeway. Then you came home without it last night. Since you told me you’d get up early this morning and go and get it, I promised to keep my mouth shut.”

     “I don’t remember any of that happening. You’re making it up.”

     “I’ve had it with you, little bro. This is not the first time you agreed to do something and then didn’t follow through.”

     I struggled to come up with a response, but couldn’t think of anything to say. My mind was a blank. I guess, “Some things don’t change with age.”

 

 

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