A brown envelope arrives in the post 5 minutes before we are due to leave for our weekend away in Surrey.
It's a letter from the taxman. He says my husband has failed to pay some tax due and there will be a penalty. His offence falls into the 'careless' category not the' deliberate intent to conceal' category.There are 8 pages of explanations in legal scary language.
The words aren't scary - they are just words - but I plunge into a pit of terror which haunts me all weekend. I wake in the night with heart palpitations, in a sticky sweat. I imagine my husband in prison even though I know it's only money they want not his soul.
And I know it's some old fear that has surfaced now.....something or someone I believed could hurt me....some awful thing I must have done....nothing to do with my husband.
I read him the letter, slowly. He says he thinks he understands. I ask him,
Do you know what a penalty is?
Yes, he says. It means a gift.
Actually it's the opposite, I say.
But maybe he's right. I haven't worked out what the gift is in all this yet. Our lovely accountant did reassure us this morning. He said we have good grounds for appeal because of my husband's medical condition. And as it's a civil offence not a criminal one he won't be going to prison.
I just have to find a way to let myself out of my own prison....being reminded that 'Thoughts Aren't Facts' in our Mindfulness class today helped me step beyond the bars for a little while. That and remembering a wonderful walk with dear friends in Bushy Park at Hampton Court yesterday where I took this photo of a water lily......beauty untarnished, rooted in itself, free to bloom.
No comments:
Post a Comment