It wasn’t until the other day that I learned that my love of oatmeal cream pies is hereditary. My relationship with the oatmeal cream pie dates back 10+ years ago to my college days. When we would go on canoeing, camping or kayaking trips, we would always take oatmeal cream pies along. They were the perfect snack. No matter how much they are squished or deformed, they always taste the same. The packaging is waterproof- you can flip your canoe and chase them as they float down river. They can bake in the hot sun or sit in a cold cooler and taste good either way. When you find one in the bottom of your bag, probably from a previous trip, it is still just as good as it would have been the first time around.
I’ll be the first to admit, there are better tasting treats out there but the oatmeal cream pie beats them all when it comes to practicality. Like most things in my life, practicality is how I began my relationship with the oatmeal cream pie. Soon, it became a staple item on any trip I took. Before long, the oatmeal cream pie was not only esteemed based on practicality but also held sentimental value as it was a reminder to me of a life enjoyed.
I rarely eat oatmeal cream pies unless I am on a trip of some sort. The sentiment grew as the oatmeal cream pie accompanied me past camping trips in Arkansas and onto trips in Colorado, Austria, Belgium, France, Germany, Italy, Spain, and the Czech Republic. I couldn’t stop. On we went to Costa Rica, Japan, and Thailand. Back to Europe, and then to Mexico, Haiti, and the Cayman Islands. Then to Chili, Turkey, Greece, Jordan and to Austria yet again. I’ve never really pondered the significance of my relationship with the oatmeal cream pie. Nor did I ever realize how significant it was until I gave one to my 3 year old son.
With a mouth so full, I could hardly understand him, he looked at the remainder of the cookie in his hand admiringly and said, “Mom, this is the best thang in the world!”
All the places I had enjoyed an oatmeal cream pie flashed through my mind in half a second. Along with a love for the oatmeal cream pie, I hope enjoying each day of his journey of life, appreciating the small things along the way is also hereditary!
