This feels better than a nostalgic moment where you turn your head from your desk where you a lugubriously toiling at the matrices or the algorithms or the atomic structures or the linearity of the logic of your theses. You look up and catch a vision from your past. You see a cute boy and girl holding hands. Despite the fact that they are nothing to write home about (or write to your audience), but they are not unattractive. They're the non-descript good-looking couple that only brings on a Purelled vision of joy lacking any sort of lust, admonishment, envy, or despair.
Your mind wanders backwards in a rush of air that can slam you back upon sticking your head out the window while on the highway. You might as well push back from your desk, stand up, walk around, and sit back down after making a commute to and from the water fountain. You don't occupy yourself like you normally do when you lose focus, but grab onto the sliver of your history that makes you remember times with your eskimo kissed. You're laying in bed and forget to figdet because your focusing on her breathing. There's that moment during the car ride while holding her hand that you forgot to use your seatbelt. And then you knew....
It's a retrospective look at your own life that is not fraught with some sort of watering down of the past.
The past comes forward and slaps you as hard as it did the first time it did when you got around it.
The songs have not staled as time as blown by.