It was a random thought which strayed into a old memory, drawing Jo out of her half-asleep state and kept her up toward morning.
It was a vague memory. About some blue book in her past life she was trying to fill. It had two bookmark ribbons: one red and the other green. It was really pretty blue book. Too pretty to write in. Strangely, all Jo remembered were some Venn diagrams, time stamps and some blank lines. Now, she was hunched over her notebook cross-legged and flicking her fountain pen around her thumb trying to remember.
It felt important.
Something in her was screaming at her it was important. Something she needed. Something she needed right now.
But whatever it was she used the book for, unfortunately she didn't get into a habit of it.
After several fruitful minutes of thinking, Jo let out an huff of irritation and looked over her shoulder to her bedside table to check her wrist watch.
"Almost three..." she murmured, eyes drifting to the picture frame next to it. She studied the contours of her parents's beaming faces when she was hit with a sharp pang of... of something.
It was Friday the Thirteenth today, Jo remembered abruptly. That was... that meant... two weeks. Two weeks until her grandparents's first death anniversary. Then another two until her father's. And that... and that meant it would also be the first time she and her mother would go through it alone. The first of at least seven years.
"You'd think it would get easier," Jo whispered to herself, her dry lips pulling back into a self-critical smile. She felt her chest tighten at the next intake of breath.
At the wrong time—perhaps the best—she finally remembered what the book was, and with slight tremble to her hand, she hastily scrawled it down.
'Wellness/well-being journal—sleep mood diary or something.'
Jo paused just as she lifted her pen, and turned to the last page of the notebook, blinking back tears.
Right now... Right now would be a good time to start, wouldn't it?