After a few hours of shopping, not much changes. Your head feels foggy, new memories trying to snuff out the old ones, recreating your life in a way that you didn't know that you could know. Your dad, or, should you say your son, drags you along to a few stores on main street, mostly for clothes shopping. Part of you realizes that John is so different from you when YOU were his age, not when this new version of you was. Judging by the skinny jeans, the flannels, the joggers, and the converse he coaxed you into buying, you can tell he's a hipster for today's generation. You chuckle softly as you walk behind him; you would have never suspected. Your son, the hipster?
No, wait, that's not right? The statement sounds more like a question you've mentally asked yourself, causing you to scratch the small patch of hair left on your head in confusion. Suddenly, you find yourself looking down at your big stomach, your hairy arms, and your beefy hands. This is who you are right?
"Alright, we're done here." John says definitively, making his way back toward the car and expecting you to follow. You watch him walk confidently, and you come back to reality. Your son, the 17 year old wearing converse and skinny jeans, was exactly who he wanted to be. A grin slid across your face as you marched on toward the car, ready to head home.
What you don't realized is how much smoother your driving is on the way home. It's as if you actually have 25 years of experience this time, and John is noticeably less worried. In fact, he is more absorbed in his cell phone than your driving. As you pull into the driveway, John opens his door and grabs his bags out of the backseat. "Thanks dad." he says curtly, rushing inside.
"You're welcome son." he's already gone, giving you no chance to accept his thanks. As you unbuckle, your stomach immediately feels relief as your sweaty shirt can stop clinging to it. With a groan, you whip your legs around and exit the car, feeling a dull pain in your lumbar. "That never gets easier." As you make your way into the house, you freeze, true reality sinking back in if only for a moment. Your mother is your wife and your brother is your son now, a fact that only worries your for a brief moment before you pull the screen door and enter the home.
Inside, your wife, Melissa, is cooking dinner, and your other son, Jason, is watching tv at the dinner table, probably waiting for dinner to be done. They both look at you and smile. "Hey Dad." Jason's face is lit up more than usual, but not necessarily out of happiness. Rather, he seems confused, like he just called somebody the wrong name. This lasts for a moment before he seems to settle into reality, turning away from you.
Melissa chimes in. "How was shopping? I see our son has some new clothes." her voice is questioning, as if to question his clothes choices without actually doing it. She may as well have - John had gone upstairs. "They suit him well, Mel. Heh, I love seeing him in those Chucks. Reminds me of the good old days. Back when I wasn't a large old man with lower back problems and an island of thin hair on his head." she smiles and moves toward you, grabbing your shirt covering your chest gently before leaning in. She presses her lips to yours, a motion which you reciprocate as pleasure spreads throughout your body. The kiss feels like an old habit and a new one at the same time, but when she pulls away, you find yourself disappointed that it is over. "And I still love you anyway, even with no hair." a wordless smile from each of you ends the conversation as she turns back to turning over vegetables in the pan on the stove. You turn to Jason, who looks confused once again. He looks at you and looks you up and down, as if something is wrong. Without a word, he heads up the stairs quickly. You hear his footsteps take him to John's room.