love, life & whoopie pies





it was a blissful time in maine. my husband and i ran off child-free to finally celebrate our big 10. we lounged, drank martinis, got dressed up and snuggled close. lots of talking and listening, serious and silly, all good. we wined and dined and were wooed by this siren's beautiful music. we slept in late together, then strolled along the rocky shore eating chocolate and holding hands. perfect.

on the drive home, my husband remembered this restaurant we had eaten at over the summer, and how they claimed to have the best whoopie pies ever. even martha stewart left a rave review. he was suddenly inspired to finally try one of these little pieces of heaven, so we made the easy detour. i left him smiling and went inside to go get his anticipated treat. when i returned to the car empty handed, he at once was full of questioning disbelief and disappointment like i had forgotten the one thing i went in there for. i buckled myself in the car and turned to squarely face him..."the whoopie pie lady died." he wasn't expecting that, and his expression hung blankly for a moment as he registered the gravity of the news.

we spoke briefly about mortality and regret, and how experiences and opportunities are there for us one moment and gone the next. we thought about the joy this woman had shared, simply created from chocolate and cream, and we longed to experience a bit of that joy.

we drove away empty handed but full of the reminder of a deeper connection, and to always, always taste life.



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