A week or two ago I woke up early with the chorus of the Kinks's song "Tired of Waiting for You" playing in my head and the image of a woman waiting. I wondered which of Jane Austen's characters it was. As I tried to go back to sleep for a little while (after all I should try to sleep in on a Saturday), I realized it was Anne and she wasn't just thinking it, she was writing it. I wondered if she was writing a letter, but then realized it was a journal. And that's where this plot bunny came from. If you aren't familiar with the song, give it a listen or read the lyrics 'cause it is perfect for her.
(By the way, has anyone noticed there is an inconsistency in the first two pages of Persuasion? According to Baronetage, Elizabeth was born on June 1, 1785 and Anne is born in August 9, 1787 and her mom dies in 1800. Even if Lady Elliot died after her daughters birthdays, that would make them 15 and 13 when she died, but on the next page it says "[Lady Elliot] had found enough in her duties, her friends, and her children, to attach her to life, and make it no matter of indifference to her when she was called on to quit them. - Three girls, the two eldest sixteen and fourteen, was an awful legacy for a mother to bequeath.")
When Anne was almost ten-years-old in the summer of 1797, she was impatiently waiting for a trip to the seaside with her family. Her mother had told her of the waves, of the sound of them crashing, of the sand, of the swooping and circling birds and the smell of the sea water, and of the friends they would be residing with who had twin daughters that looked just like each other. All these things seemed quite fantastical to Anne and she was eager to experience them for herself.
Her mother became tired of Anne asking when they would leave for the trip and one day brought Anne a journal. Her mother had the days marked off in a sort of calendar upon the first page. She told Anne, "Every day you may mark off the day before you go to bed. When you are impatient, look upon how many days are left and put your thoughts upon these pages. It will help the time pass faster."
Anne dutifully marked off each day at its conclusion. She also did pen a few words about her impatience. However on the morning the trip commenced, the journal was tossed in her traveling case and remained closed the rest of the trip. Anne had too much enjoyment in the trip to take the time to record her experiences. When they returned home, she placed the journal in a drawer and the journal remained largely forgotten after that.
A year later, Anne was waiting for a puppy that had been promised to her. Anne kept asking her mother when the puppy would be old enough to to leave its mother. Out of desperation, her mother asked if Anne still had her journal. After searching, Anne brought it to her mother. Her mother again marked out the days Anne would have to wait and again Anne marked them down, one-by-one, and also recorded a few thoughts about her hopes for what it would be like to have that puppy. Once again, when the puppy arrived, other than recording the name she had given the dog, Anne stopped writing in it and forgot about the journal.
Anne did not think about the journal again until her mother sickened in the year 1800. Then, for some reason, it was all she could think about. She thought about whether there was an unrecorded count-down occurring, if someone knew how many days her mother might have left to dwell among them, and was ticking them down, one-by-one.
To try to counter this unrecorded count-down, Anne wrote down her mother's name in full and then the years 1800, 1801 and so on until there were enough years to measure her mother's life up past the age of 100. Anne hoped that in doing so she could affix her mother to this life. However, whatever magic she felt she could find in recording these numbers, it was to no avail.
Instead, Anne watched God's countdown tick down for her mother and knew she was waiting for her mother's death. The diminishing days were clear each morning when she awoke and rushed to her mother's side. Though she did not know which day would be her mother's last, she knew the day was nearing. When it finally came and she watched her mother breathe her last, Anne begged her mother not to go, but even as those words left her mouth, she knew they would have no effect. Her mother was dead.
That evening as Anne prepared for bed she thought about the journal. It was innocuously, innocently sitting in her drawer, the same as when she had laid it down a few days earlier with her hopes captured in the years written on its pages. Angrily, she ripped out those pages. She then wrote: "October 21, 1800" skipped a line and wrote, "My mother has died. All the rest of the days of my life shall pass away before I am happy again."
Anne then closed the journal, placed it back in her drawer and went to bed. She did not sleep for a long, long time.
In the years that followed, all the countdowns recorded in her journal were mostly count-downs of dread. She wrote down how many days until her mother's funeral, how many days until she would have to leave for school, how many days until each summer, how many days until she would finally be allowed to leave school, how many days until her coming out bleak as it was to be ushered into womanhood by Lady Russell instead of her mother. The few thoughts she wrote in her journal were inevitably sad, but took up hardly any space at all. So it was that before the summer of 1806 commenced, Anne had only filled out twelve pages and ripped out three in a journal containing more than one hundred.
She reflected that nothing much worth writing was written down and this journal should more than suffice to contain all the disappointments of her days.