Dear Reader,
My favorite time of year at the book club is when entries from our annual Write a DearReader contest are submitted. It's a privilege to read the stories and I continue to be amazed at the quality of writing.
Today I'm featuring an Honorable Mention piece that was written by Diane Boddicker.
Thank you so much Diane for sharing your story with us.
THE GIFT
My Mom used to say, "You get what you give." Today I got an unexpected gift.
Driving home from the dentist, I notice a Red Cross Blood Drive being held across the street from my house. These days, I'm trying to do anything I can to make the world a better place, so I think to myself, "Hey, I can help. I'll go in and drop off a pint, or gallon, whatever is needed." Mask up and inside I go.
I'm greeted at the door by a bubbly, young girl named Shianne who squirts me with hand sanitizer and leads me to a table to be interviewed. During the onslaught of questions, we strike up a friendly conversation. "So, your name is Shianne. That's a different kind of name. Seems like it should be Cheyenne, with a ch." "My parents are from Wyoming, but also from the '60's. They wanted me to be unique." Hehe. "Oh look, I'm Shianne and you're Diane." Cool. Giggle.
I pass the tests and lay on the donor table. I should insert here that, as good as my intentions always are when it comes to handing over my blood, whether it's for lab tests or charity, it pretty much takes a vampire to get it out of me. I seem to be blessed with squirmy veins. It requires poking, jabbing, and an abundance of patience to hit the mother lode. Shianne hands me a rubber squishy ball and says, "Squeeze 3 times and hold." I do that. Over and over. Left arm. Right arm. Left arm. "Squeeze 3 times and hold." Gentle slap. "Squeeze 3 times and hold." Sigh.
I tell Shianne about the last time I donated blood. How I only filled half the bag. How my blood was trashed. I'm feeling like a loser. We start to joke about how the Red Cross needs to have stickers that say, "I TRIED to give blood," or, "Thanks for TRYING to save a life." Or maybe a giant, red "L" forehead stamp. We find ourselves feeling like two (slightly irreverent) old friends, chuckling over a glass of wine and some fancy cheese.
Finally, success! Shianne triumphantly pokes the perfect little sucker, hooks me up to a bag marked with many identifying labels (none of which say "Loser!"), and we're in business.
As I'm being drained, Shianne sits to chat with me. I tell her I've been painting my bathroom and, other than painting behind the toilet and when my husband dropped his loaded paintbrush on the floor, picking the color was the worst part. She advises me to next time look on Pinterest and simply, "copy a room." I ask her if she's married. She declares "nope," and enlightens me about her exciting life in the city. By the way, she does have detailed wedding plans for when the time comes (undoubtedly, it will involve Pinterest). We continue to blab on about friends, food, and life, until my blood pouch is stuffed.
My tubes are disconnected and I'm pointed in the direction of the cookie tray. I'm feeling like a champion as the shiny "I Donated" sticker is affixed to my shirt. While I munch on my peanut butter cookie, Shianne thanks me for providing someone with the gift of life today.
Later, I wonder who will receive my blood, will it save someone? I feel hopeful and satisfied. Then, I reflect on these crazy pandemic times. During this moment, when human contact is at such a premium, I think about the surprise gift I received today. I made a contribution. I met someone new. I smiled, laughed, and enjoyed an easy and effortless hour. I think maybe I should've put an "I Donated" sticker on Shianne, and thanked HER for giving ME the gift of life.
-- Diane Boddicker
Honorable Mention, 2020 Write a DearReader Contest
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.
MAKING HEARTS (Fiction) by Jack Getze
Young, single women are too often unwilling to be mothers. In my new book, a magical infant explains why and how one teenage mom and her family change their minds. I'm giving away five copies. Write to me at jackgetze@gmail.com and and tell me why you'd like to receive one. I'll pick the emails I like best, the people who best understand my inspiration.
Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on MAKING HEARTS to read more and to email author Jack Getze, you'll get a reply.
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