I was nervous about failing. The last few times I tried to donate blood things went awry. Either I ended up with a purple bruise, or the bag never quite filled and was tossed with the plastic tubing. But this month the twins were learning about blood types in Human Body, which ignited a thread of conversation among our family identifying types. It was our own closed genetics study, to tease out the possibilities among nine children, two of whom are identical. The fact that John and I are Rh incompatible made it even more interesting. Then there are varieties that are universally welcome, or rare. I'm befuddled about the flow chart, of those who can more readily receive and those who are pickier. 

 

There were friendly people to chat with as we waited for a turn to be poked. With only altruism as a connecting factor, a dozen citizens showed up in the first hour. Red Cross staff fell into the familiar routine of asking questions, and swabbing forearms. The woman interviewing me had heard it all before. Until she got to one question.

 

"How many times have you been pregnant?"

 

"Ten."

 

Her eyebrows went up. I spared her the details about multiples and two angels who got away. 

 

It's an exercise in abundance, really. Each of us are gifted with a self replenishing supply of red gold. For all the innovations of science, hospitals are still greedy for that which no one can live without. Yet acquiring it hinges on generosity. While I am incapable of stopping or starting the production of blood in my veins, my body knows what to do. And curiously, giving to others triggers it to create more. 

 

How like love. I cannot conjure it, but when I gift it, more arrives undeserved. I wonder what type I have. Am I one of the picky ones?