On the bus- an African American couple is getting off, 20s, she's got the empty stroller and he's got the requisite doo rag and flat-billed hat sideways, pants down around his knees. He leans in and says, "hey man, all I got is a 20," and shows me his wallet, which is only very large bills. I say "that's okay-" hand gestures- "it ain't worth 20 dollars." Relief smiles across his face, and something else too. I say, "oh yeah, you're fine. Guys have a good night." He says "thank you" in italics, and she says sincerely, "I appreciate it," and we exchange some more 'have-a-good-nights' and 'you-too's,' except they feel so big and real and what else, and they're almost gone when he turns back and yells out, "and Happy Father's day, if you have a son!" An hour later I saw them again, wandering into the street. He had taken off his shirt. I leaned out of the bus and waved, and we all recognized each other ("heeeyyyy!"), and the excited goodness in them glowed. It was like we 3 were all the same special species, the kind that sees new possibilities, and you feel the juice that makes one excited about humanity. Our generation. The size of these moments.
RSS Feed
