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.