I am just back from a sentimental journey.  For sentiment, one has several options:

a.  read the "boats against the current" thing in Gatsby again;

b.  go out for coffee with your college sweetheart, in the event she doesn't look like your mom yet;

c.  re-read your journals from that time when you dropped out of Oberlin and moved to NYC when you were 17 because, well, you were wasting time in college and life was passing and it was really  time to be a ... writer;  (FUCK ME did I write this stuff?)

d.  get in the car, turn left in Frederick Maryland, drive 850 additional miles, turn off the iPhoney-thing, and arrive in Iowa to see the Mom and Dad.

I chose (d).  Which was great, mainly because I also brought a couple of Jacques Pe'pin books and, I will say, therefore introduced a killer gratin to the folks more accustomed to the boiled and mashed.