A View Of What A Writer's Imagination Observes

A fatigued European-American woman with silver hair contemplated her self worth by looking towards her past low wage job positions and fantasized whether a completed college degree would have improved her standing in life. Now that her body is showing its age and idols that she admired are one by one passing away, Franceszka is forced to evaluate the time she has left on this planet. Now and then her gaze is drawn upon the palm of her right hand, looking for the answers drawn on her lifeline. Her missing teeth make her appear old looking, but luckily she has an upper denture and lower partial to make up for those faults. Wishing herself to be thinner like she was when she was in her 20's is no longer an option. Physical energy has a way of walking out on her in times when she needs its the most.

A new strategy needs to be born to alleviate the current dilemma. The yellow brick road is no longer painted yellow. It is painted in a spectrum of colors, breaking it up into numerous narrow paths to follow. Many choices there are yet each path is the straight and narrow. A good swimmer Franceszka is, navigating life's calm and turbulent seas. Knowing when to float and take in needed resources is one way of keeping one's head above water. As Darwin once phrased it when referring to modern day species, "The survival of the fittest". Franceszka's informal learning was her greatest teacher. Her childhood was not an easy one. Her father was sick from the war and her mother would cry if the slightest bit of criticism was handed her way. Franceszka bottled her emotions and floated through her child and adolescent years as if she was a glass bottle sailing the rough seas while encompassing a handwritten note. Imagining herself as a rock, she had the power to ward off hurtful words and actions. Being a rock is only a dream since her mental state was a glass bottle. There would come a time when the bottle will be so full that its inner contents would shatter the glass and be exposed. Do you think that Franceszka would permit that? She had to be careful not to let the real self out. That would be mutiny!

Written words were the coveted secret codes in the working gears of her mind. Diaries were her personal bibles. Each of her handwritten books were worth its weight in gold. In other words they were valuable to her. Completed diaries were stored in a basket. They were her legacy. Franceszka wanted her only child to inherit them. This would be the autobiography of her thoughts fused in with shades of feeling and perspective. How valuable can this be when handed down from generation to generation! Just picture future generations trying to decipher the faded writing of an ancestor. The binding of Franceszka's thoughts would give way scattering its crumbling pages like the glass bottle with the old handwritten code. It needs to come out from its hiding place and dance like a specter at midnight. Breezes gently blew the shroud and the full moon's light pierced the see through body of the spirit.

All those recorded memories and theories bound in leather and resting on the dusty bookshelves of time. The history of humankind. The analytic and insightful theories of the human species transcending time and ready to program each post generation with past wisdom. The human brain needs to have learning experiences via the five senses.

Franceszka loved to go for walks in the park and afterwards she would sit down and write in her beloved journal. That relaxing experience shares a page with various life experiences residing in her personal diaries. Writers now and in the past depended on journals. It was a good idea to keep these pocket sized notebooks handy just in case a crucial thought might occur at any particular moment.

The strategy of Franceszka's survival depends upon her inner strength and ability to be persistent. More than half of her life is behind her, a ghost of a memory. Will she take the king in checkmate or will she succumb? First of all this woman born in the baby boomer years will have to sort out the problems and employ problem solving strategies. If one strategy does not work, then try a different one. Whoever stated that life is a bowl of cherries did not test that statement. As narrator of this story I feel that Franceszka will delve into her goal of living a long life despite its rough edges.