Today, publish a post based on unused material from a previous piece –a paragraph you nixed, a link you didn’t include, a photo you decided not to use. Let your leftovers shine!
This is a tough one. Typically, I write these prompts very fast and I’m not aware of deliberately choosing to leave anything out. I have a pretty organized way of thinking, usually, from point A to B to C and done. Hmmmm.
Okay. Yesterday I mentioned have traveled with my college’s touring choir and said that was another story all by itself. So let’s go there.
We left southern Minnesota and traveled across Wisconsin, Indiana, Ohio, and into Pennsylvania. There were maybe 60 of us. It was a wonderful trip, with stops along the way to do a little sightseeing. We spent a day in New York City, a day in Philadelphia, and if I remember correctly, a day in Valley Forge. We sang in churches all over this little corner of PA, including the church that later became our home for many, many years. Took me a while to realize that after I’d married and we’d moved out here to work in that church.
For this midwestern girl who’d never been to the East Coast, it was just a great trip. One thing I really looked forward to was seeing the Pennsylvania mountains. Several of our choir members were from various points in PA, and they bragged about how beautiful their mountains were.
I was born in Grand Junction, Colorado. Say the word mountain to me, and I think of “purple mountain’s majesty, above the fruited plain.” High, jagged, peaks of 10,000 feet, like I remembered and loved from our trips back to Colorado to see relatives. Exciting, breathtaking views from the top of the world.
So I was thrilled to be going to see mountains again. There are NO mountains in the flat farmlands of Minnesota!
We drove across the state line from Ohio into Pennsylavania. I watched out the windows, longing for my first glimpse on the horizon of the craggy line of mountains I loved on our trips to Colorado.
And we drove. . . .and drove. . . .and yes, the foothills were pretty. There were lots of trees, lovely little valleys with farms tucked into folds watered by rivers that curled through the hills. It was delightful.
After a couple of hours, I turned to my PA seatmate. “So, when will we see the mountains?” I asked.
He gave me a long, considering look. I wasn’t sure, but I knew I’d said something wrong. Without cracking a smile, without any expression on his face, he said, “We’re IN the mountains.” And he got up and found another seat.