This year, I’ve tried extra hard to be alive. It’s a practice that takes time, which is crazy given that life seem to be a human birthright. Right?

Anyway, I was walking to work a few weeks ago, on my routine route from North Beach to BART. I promised myself I’d stop ordering lattes with soy, but discipline went out the door as I entered Starbucks for my order du jour. My latte has my 27-year-old thumb sucking. Baby blanket. Lamby the lamb. The little daily comfort.

I leaned against the coffee counter while waiting for my latte. I ordered it through the Starbucks app. As much as I love a meaningful morning exchange with the cashiers at 50 California Street, I also love a few extra minutes at home. The app comes in handy.

As I wait for my A.M. indulgence, I meander from one iPhone app to another. Email. Slack. iMessage. Email. Each tap is a peek behind code for a shot of connection — maybe a shot I could’ve gotten if I’d ordered my espresso with a human cashier. Instead I stare at my screen.

Looking up to see if my latte is ready, I catch a breath of air and lock eyes with the barista yelling out orders. She pauses coffee roll call, looks at me, lifts her index fingers to the corners of her mouth, and gestures for me to smile. She says nothing. Her eyes are sincere.

My defensiveness is quickly overcome by gratitude. Who asked this woman to stop rushing through coffee orders to gift a stranger a moment of love? Who decided that I needed a reminder? A reminder that the electricity of slow, intentional eye contact surmounts the speed of algorithmic orders.

This moment and others like it are what help shape my understanding of goodness. The idea that we’re all connected. The force that moves a stranger to courageously wake another human being up.

I could’ve scowled. But the woman at Starbucks gave me a try. And I smiled.