You never forget how it feels

Watching and listening to the rotary dial rotate all the way back into its resting position.

Winding the white-teethed reel of a cassette tape with your finger because the ribbon was slack.

The smack of your breath inside a Nintendo cartridge when ridding it of dust; the audible and haptic click when you pressed the gray plastic cartridge down into place within the box. The resistance of the Reset button you needed to push it to just the right spot to get that game to properly load.

The clickety-clack of old keyboards.

The moment the motor on the optical drive kicked in when it realized you were crudely pushing the CD-ROM tray with your hand instead of pressing the button on the face of the beige box.

The clap when you closed your clamshell cellphone.

The audible clicks on the original iPod, perfectly faithful to the distance you rotated your finger around the Click Wheel.

When your MagSafe connector jumps into the power socket, as if it were thinking, "Oh thank god I'm back."

The serene feel of the backlit, chiclet keyboard.

The rubber banding at the top and bottom of lists on the iPhone.

When pull-to-refresh catches.

The vibration of your iPhone when you make a square in Dots.

You never forget how it feels.