Being alive for so long makes it difficult to remember everything at times. After all, it is much easier to remember worst memories than happiest ones. I’m sure I have forgotten many happy memories from my childhood - or at least I hope they were happy.

Hmm… (He tugs softly at his scarf, silent as he thinks about the question.) 

Though I felt most content as a nation during the Empire, perhaps under Pyotr Velikiy, I would not consider those years to be my happiest memory. They were wonderful times, but true happiness exists only in a moment, I believe. It is something brief, so I don’t suppose I can count those years. 

My happiest memory actually comes from a time when I felt far from being a nation. At that time I was feeling rather depressed and overburdened by what I was. I couldn’t stand it, so I left my capital and traveled to the countryside. I wandered all day until I decided there was no point in going back, and fell asleep on a field on someone’s farm, the stars above me and the cool breeze on my face. When I awoke, two children were standing hesitantly above me. They were really quite young, and I figured they wouldn’t remember anything I told them once they grew up, so I revealed everything. I told them who and what I was and they believed me right away. We sat and talked there for a while until finally they grabbed my hands and led me to their house. Their family was truly the kindest I have ever met, and though the parents did not understand, they listened to their children and took me in. We had breakfast together as if we were one family. I felt welcome, like that was my real home. When I think of the awe and admiration in those children’s faces, I am proud for a moment of what I am.

…There you have it. That was the first thing that came to mind, at least.