Cherish all your happy moments; they make a fine cushion for old age.

Happiness as currency for later

There's something almost practical about this advice that we tend to miss. When we're young, we treat happy moments like they're just happening to us—pleasant distractions between the real work of ambition or productivity. But Tarkington is suggesting something closer to an investment strategy: that joy actually builds something durable inside us.

The metaphor of a cushion is perfect because it captures how memories work in reverse. When life gets harder—and it does—the good moments don't just fade away. They become something you can sink into, something that absorbs the weight. People who've lived long lives often describe this exactly: they're sustained not by their accomplishments but by remembered laughter, small kindnesses, moments with people they loved. It's like they were unconsciously saving up all along.

The trick is recognizing these moments while they're happening. Most people don't. We're too busy worrying about whether the experience is Instagram-worthy or productive or the "right" kind of happy. But the cushion gets built from ordinary things: a conversation that made you laugh, an afternoon with no agenda, someone showing up when they said they would. The happiness doesn't need to be exceptional to count. It just needs to be real and noticed.