What was the happiest time of your life, my son asked.

These days it’s common for him to ask this type of question. He’s off to college soon and asks me a lot about life, relationships, money, and career.

I thought about it for a few moments. I didn’t like the word “happiest.” Happiest in the past implies less happy now, which is not true. Or perhaps there is something unpleasant in admitting that I was happier in the past, though I don’t think so. I’ve aged, I have scars — don’t we all — but I struggle to describe happiness as some fleeting experience. True happiness transcends age and circumstances. For sure, some days are darker than others, or some years are better than others, but there is intrinsic happiness in me. It doesn’t mean it’s not there because I am going through a difficult stretch.

I was, however, able to identify a few memories that are unquestionably bright and happy — time spent with friends and my girlfriend (my future wife!) in my early twenties. Some memories are from college; some are from my first years working. I was in London then, working in investment banking, and so were my friends. From college to our first job — our paths were very similar. The work hours were insanely long, but we found time to get together. Sometimes our outings were quiet, sometimes we partied and got drunk — it was all good, innocent, carefree fun.

Carefree. That one word that I kept using when I was talking to my son about these memories. Carefree. I don’t think you can ever be totally carefree. There is always…