sometimes its the small things

"Marianne!" A distant shout forces me to wake. My eyes awoke to a familiar setting, home. Yellow curtains on a small window that barely even functions as a window. A room just large enough to fit a queen sized bed. The wooden floors polished, but a wide chipped plank is hidden by my bed side desk. Its been years since it's been repaired.

"Marianne!" A yawn escaped from my lips, my arms sprouted up into the air. I know that voice. I know it by heart.

"Marianne!" Deana bursts into my room. Her bangs sway, covering her eyes. She swats then, places a hand on her hip, and stares me down.

Is this it? Is this my body?

"You should get up already! We're going to late at this rate!" Deana crashes into my bed, ripping the covers off me. "This is your b-day! Not mines! Come on! Out of bed!" She demands. I prop myself up the bed, already feeling the cold prickle me.

I'm back.

This is my body.

I want to jump up from the bed, and hug Dea, or at least pinch her to feel if this is real.

But..?

I remain still in bed, another yawn escaping from me.

"Let's go sleepy head! Or I will tickle you out!" She snatches my feet, despite my kicking and protesting she manages with brute strength to force me out. I hate when she tries to tickle me. I'm not a kid anymore.

"Alrighty!" Her loud and proud voice booms. "Now, go get ready! I won't have you ruining this special day I have planned." She spins on her heels, the joy glowing from her.

I want to say I've missed her. I want to say, I miss everyone and I'm glad to be home. I'm want to jump up and just scream how happy I am. Yet I can't. Why aren't I moving or saying anything?

"This is someone's 18th birthday we're talking about. This day is too special to be ignored Maria!" Deana says in sing songs voice as she paces into her room. I follow behind her, without a thought.

I know what this is.

I'm dreaming aren't I?

"Did you know," I say on autopilot, "this birthday girl hates being woken up, especially when it's so early." I groan pointing towards the clock. Automatically, just as I remember, I plop down into a chair that's direct line of sight of Deana's closet.

I know, you would sleep the whole day.

"Yes," Deana disappears into her closet, her voice echoing to me, "I know. You would sleep the whole day if no one said anything!"

Who? Me? Noo.

"Who? Me? Nooo." The sarcasm rolls off my tongue with ease. Propping up my elbow, I lean on my knee. Deana reappears, shoving a box into my hands.

Don't be sassy with me.

"Don't be sassy with me, young lady." She retorts with mocking tone, whisking some earrings into her ears.

I absolutely hate this. Since when have my dreams been so visceral?

Oh right.

When I ended up in someone else's body.

"What's this?" I stare down at glossy blue warped rectangular box with a sleek white ribbon in the center.

A gift, silly.

"It's a gift, silly." Deana smirks poking me in the arm. I lean back in my chair, unraveling the ribbon first.

"Hey," Deana tugs the chair backward, "careful though! Don't knock that down." Her hands flick to the metal box on her desk, the chair pressing it towards the edge of the desk. I whip my head around.

"What's in there?" I rest the gift box on my lap, craning my head to get a better look inside the metal box.

"That's my Mari for you," Deana sighs, "more interested in my work than her gift." She raised the metal box, tilting it slightly so I can see.

"Sorry," the laughter sprinkles from me, "curiosity runs in the family."

It always did.

"Its a very special book." On top of the metal box a glass screen slider reflects a dimly kit chunky leather book inside.

"Are you restoring it?" I ask brushing my fingers against the thick glass.

"Yes, Ma'am. It's a 200 years old, first edition copy of Bluebeard, or The Effects of Female Curiosity." Deana grins again, before setting the box back on her desk.

"Bluebeard? The effects of 'female' curiosity?" My fingers air quote as I question. "What is that? I've never heard of it." Deana dramatically gasps grabbing at her chest.

"I've failed you!" She covers her face faking a sob. "You don't know of this classic tale?" She sniffles.

"I'm not the literary maniac." My eyes roll.

"Well," she laughs, "it's a tale of love, betrayal, and death. Imagine this." Her hands grip my chair spinning it around. "You're a young woman bethroned to a stranger. A man who may not be what he pretends. One day, he takes his leave, no questions asked on your part, and he leaves you with a key." Deana lowers her voice and likens it to a deep throaty growl.

"And this is what he says, you're allowed into every room, except the room with the blue door. Your key will let you into any room you covet. Just don't go inside the blue door." The chair stops, my body locking directly in front of Deana.

"Okay? Then what?" My eyebrows raise in the suspense.

"Did I enrapture your interest?" Deana suppress her smile.

"Yes?" I emphasize in a matter of fact my tone.

"Then read it one day. Open your gift." She nods towards the gift box in my lap.

"Definitely not happening. That thing looks like a thousand pages." My nose scrunches up in disgust.

"Aren't you spoiled? Come open it." She squeals shaking me by the shoulders. I take off the wrapping opening it to reveal a blank canvas.

"What am I looking at?" Lifting the canvas I peer at it blankly. "It looks a lot like nothing." I flip it back and front, only a clear white canvas with a regular wooden base in my sight.

"Yes. That's what it seems." Deana swoops behind me, holding up the canvas to the light. "But look closely." Scrunching my eyes until they're slits, I scrutinize the spotless canvas.

"Dea?" I give her an eye. "I'm starring at nothing."

No you're not.

"It's more than a canvas. I visualize, and I see it. I see our lives in Paris, Rome, Africa," Deana taps at the surface of the canvas, "anywhere we want to go." Deana loosens her hand laying plane tickets on the canvas. My face falls flat. My mouth hangs open for flies, and I swear almost swallowed one.

"You didn't." My legs sprout up, as I shoot up from my chair my voice elevating.

"I did." Deana's smile blooms. "I promised you we'd take that leap and travel the world didn't I?"

"Oh my god!" I jump shouting. "You're amazing!" Deana tosses her arms around me.

"I told you kid. I promised you."

"Thank you. Thank you!" The words ooze from me and I fall into the hug.

I should have said more. I should have hugged her for longer.

I should have done more.

I regret that.

I regret it so much.

Will I never get to tell you?

I should have told you then.

I should have called you mom.