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"That was a good time. Didn't have to worry about much of anything."

No. It's too far back.

To me, the analog of Heaven was the endless days of Summer as a child. When clouds and blue sky were a country to explore.

When rainstorms were an Amazon jungle dumped upon me, and I could watch the rivulets and splashings from the comfort of a porch.

A time when lightning bugs were magic pixies playing hide-and-seek with me, and butterflies were flying flowers daring my nose to fly with them.

A time when a parent was only as far away as a worried shout, and nothing would dare to bring harm my way. But a time when I could wander around without responsibility, my only task to entertain myself.

A time, when I grew tired, or chilled, or lonely, when I could curl up next to someone, and feel a gentle hand of reassurance.

Or was that really Heaven?

When my friend's child was about 3 years old, I asked her what she did one day. She looked up towards the ceiling, thinking for a couple of seconds. She responded seriously, "I played, pooped, and played some more." And then she went back to eating her dinner.

Oh, to be 3 again...