The dictaphone

The first changes that Nacho noticed were physical: his mother recovered the richness of color in her hair (dye of good quality), the hair also grew (it gave her a younger aspect), she adopted a more upright position (because now she had more confidence), she was wearing heels again (giving her a few extra inches that were supporting her new confidence in herself), her clothes improved in quality (because having better confidence get her in better jobs), there were not track of glasses (she had an operation years ago), she slimmed down some pounds (thanks to good paid advice and an increased willpower). Even her chest stood higher (thanks to good bras and expensive creams).

Then began the changes around: the kitchen where they were squeaked, shone and was extended and transformed by art of magic. Where before there was scarcely space for a narrow table, now there was a wide table. The domestic appliances changed from cheap to expensive. Decorations changed from poor but clean to elegant and equally clean. It was a wonderful smell of newly baked cookies coming from the oven. His mother was putting on a glove to extract the tray from the oven.

-Would you like some cookies? I’ve backed enough for you and your friends. I know Raymond love them too.

Inside Nacho’s brain something strange was happening: although he remembered the old past, he was aware it was being replaced by a brighter one. In that new past her mother got over her husband’s death quickly and she had token the reins of the family with determination. She already had fluid English and took some secretary intensive courses. Meanwhile she worked on hard jobs to support the family’s economy. Later she went to some job interviews until she was accepted as an assistant. From then on she only had been promoted. Now she was the personal assistant of a senior manager on a big company.

But all that never changed the fact that she was, before anything, a mother, and she was respected for this. She was a super-woman, one of those women that simply can deal with all. She arose envy but she endure it very well. And he was his proud son.

All that, he though, was impossible. All that changes, all the new memories, his new feelings, were impossible. What happened? The dictaphone! It has to be. The message he had recorded as a joke had turned a new reality.

-Thanks mom –he said taking a cookie from the tray his mother was holding up for him- I’m going to my room. I have some things to think about –he added as he get one last glance at her mother, now a perfect MILF.

A little bit taken aback still, he went to his room, now upstairs. He bit the cookie and it was super-tasty.

Hummmm, yeah, definitely some things have changed.