Home and Whoopie Pies

Being at home is like being the soft, creamy white filling of a whoopie pie, shielded by

thick soft chocolate layers that envelope you, layers that can’t exist or have an identity without you. You hold the walls together and give them meaning, a reason to be. You are so connected to home that it becomes an extension of you – only identifiable as a home if you are there, just as a whoopie pie cannot exist without its filling. The sweetness of home is all engulfing and overwhelming. Walking in the door of home with its familiar smells is like taking the first delicious bite of its chocolate and savoring it. And we can choose to share it with others, only increasing our pleasure.

Home sticks to us and we don’t want to give it up for the lesser pleasure of an oreo cookie home, for example. Those hard little circles with stamped designs may be neater and prettier and also in need of a cream filling, but they just don’t have the softness and comfort of a cakey, plump bun. You can sink your teeth into the whoopie pie but you need to break off the pieces of an oreo with your teeth, or soak it in milk to make it palatable - sort of like a standard motel room- lovely and useful for a night or two, but you sleep better there if you bring your own pillow and toothbrush. Home requires no such adjustments or modifications. It is perfect just like it is; it is what you know, where you belong.