Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Next of Kin



Sitting in the office in one of the buildings at the Chateau de Versailles, I took my time filling out the employment form. From somewhere in the room I could hear a clock ticking - although there was no clock to be found on the walls - and I have always found the rythmical tick-tocking rather peaceful (except, of course, when I am late. Then it's stressful). I looked around at the other people in the room - my future colleagues - and with the exception of the guy with a cold sitting next to me breathing annoyingly loudly through his mouth, I liked the look of them.

I looked back down at the form I was in the middle of. I was now getting used to filling in these papers with their inquisitive, personal information questions that often gave me the chilling feeling I was selling my soul each time I signed the panel at the bottom of the page. Something I had had to do every time I had a job interview or signed up with a recruitment agency over these last few months.

As I signed my sloppy signature at the bottom of the second last page, I turned over and saw an unexpected question. A perfectly reasonable question that I hadn't yet come across in any of my French form-filling sessions. Next of Kin, it read, and in brackets, Who can we call if you are sick or injured? Without even having to think about it for a second, I wrote down FP's contact details. After all, he is the only person I have in France, it just seemed logical.

It's only now, thinking about it, I feel as though by filling out FP's details, I have made a transition. As though those words are a symbol of how my life is changing as I (very slowly) approach our wedding day. Yet another leap into adulthood.

Up until now, I have always written my mother's name as my next of kin, no questioning, no thinking it through, I just knew that if there was ever an emergency, my mum was to be notified first. But I changed all that today. I wrote my fiancés name, without even really thinking it through, and it feels as though I am stepping closer and closer to womanhood. By writing FP's name on that piece of paper as my next of kin, I feel as though I am letting go of my childhood, and saying hello to becoming a wife.

And, surprisingly, it feels quite nice.

7 comments:

T.D. Newton said...

It's nice when you can actually watch these transitional moments pass by. Usually they move too quickly for one to notice.

Just think, soon you can put him as the beneficiary for your life insurance! (if you even have that)

Zhu said...

It's funny you noticed the transition... after all, I don't think I did. And now, come to think of it, I must have been through it too.

I'm happy for you two!

Zannie said...

I remember this moment too! I was filling out the front page of my diary at the start of the year and it said "Emergency Contact?" and I automatically wrote Venzo's name. The funny little things that make you a grown up eh?

Love and Hugs,

Zannie x

Jennie said...

It does feel nice, doesn't it? :)

iwonderasiwander said...

Jeez you guys are all making me feel bad...I'm thirty and I still list my mom as my emergency contact!

Bethany Stewart said...

And here my husband gets annoyed at my refusal to take on his name :-)

doow said...

You're all grown up!