In Search of Lost Mornings

Posted on by mjlstories

bay-windows

In Search of Lost Mornings

Often then I’d wait at the bay window, nodding with fatigue, as the soft slow light of dawn filled the street. Trees – Horse Chestnut, I think – between soot-blackened brick; pigeons dozing on sills. Then – joy! – a distant figure, the familiar lilt of his walk, distinct even at  this time of day. My father’s muffled tread on the stairs, key in the lock.

My mother calls – Who’s there?

– Just me, m’dear.

Then a wink for me – Alright Sprout? – and scuttle back to bed, my secret safe.

And all the long years following, regretting that easy melding of souls.

MJ Lewis ©2015

Sometimes my computer annoys me and sometimes it amuses me – a normal working relationship then. This week when writing a comment about Proust’s sentences – it’s what the internet is for, and cats of course – my bad typing of Proust was creatively corrected to Sprout. Well it amused me!

PS I have in no way attempted to imitate Sprout’s – sorry Proust’s – prose style, but I will save the possibility of a 100-word one-sentence FF for another time. Could be fun to try.

Thanks as always to our host Rochelle (this week also for the evocative photo) and to all who visit.

Many more tales (wise, weird and wonderful, and sometimes all three) here.

17 thoughts on “In Search of Lost Mornings”

    • I was about to say this story is pure fiction (as if!) when I realised I read your comment at 5:40 whilst listening out for my son who is currently working nights at a local supermarket. So those are the muffled feet and key in the door…Ah!
      On the subject of worrying (it’s one of my many talents) I wonder if some of us learn to worry early in life or were we just born to it?

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    • I pinched the title from Proust’s In Search of Lost Time (or at least one of the translations of the title). I too like its strangeness – think that’s the rather literal translation from the poetic French.
      Thanks for reading.

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  3. I love the whole mood you captured in this story. And, I like the use of Sprout. It’s so original. Sometimes the auto correct can be creative and meaningful. This is one of those times. It really fit right in. Like you, I’ve always been inclined to worry. It comes naturally to me. 🙂

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    • Thanks for your kind comments.
      With regard to worrying, for a long time I’ve seen myself as a worrier and seen this as a bad thing. I then met someone who said she was inclined to worry as she had a vivid imagination and that got me thinking about reclassifying some of my worries. Some of my worrying is very destructive and unproductive, but some is linked to imagination, caring, being thorough and also of course to writing. So nowadays I’m trying to both understand and readjust my attitude to worrying. Don’t know if this rings any bells with you?

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      • I don’t think I worry needlessly like I used to. I like to think I take action now instead of getting choked up on worrying about things. So, I think I’ve improved. I guess I make my worrying count. Yoga has helped me a lot and trying to live in the moment. But, I think if we worry it does show we care. I suppose if its followed by some kind of action, then it’s worthwhile. If not, maybe it’s just a matter of processing something and that can’t be a bad thing so long as you can let it go when you’re done with it. That’s the way I think of worrying now.

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    • Thanks Rochelle.
      Don’t know if you’ve ever read any Proust? That really is a slice and a half of life. I’ve read bits of the first book which is a paean to family and childhood – or at least that’s how I remember it – and written in a style unlike anything else I’ve ever read.

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  5. I’ve never read any Proust, but I love the story anyway. A beautiful mood: tired, full of love, worry, and relief. However, I don’t quite get the last line. Why regret?

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  6. The Proust connection is just me having some fun.
    But Proust is all about mood, rather than content. Worth reading a bit just for his incredible sentences. I once read they are so complex because a single sentence can tell you what’s happening to the narrator, what he thinks about it in the current time-frame of the story and how he comes to think about it later and how it connects to later events, ie it is highly self-reflective and self-obsessive but also quite compelling.
    Regret in the sense of sadness (at times past in this case) – it’s other less used meaning.

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