It is only a matter of time before they catch me. They will find me. The Government officials will question me. There night even be police officers in attendance? I will be honest and tell them the truth. Yes, I broke the law.
It was deliberate.
The decision was planned, per-meditated.
Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.
I will tell them why I broke the law that Census Night in August 2016, and how I woke up at 3am the next morning to write it all down.
They will read my declaration, scratch their heads, put the papers in a file and walk away.
If I am lucky, there will just be a summons. Just a fine. The other option would be a court appearance. Jail time?
They want to make an example of me and send me to prison for “knowingly breaking a federal law”.
In four years it will be different. I will have changed.
By then, I will have found the courage to admit Anna is gone. Dead.
Judging by the tears streaming down my face as I write, Anna is alive, still very much alive – if only in my heart and mind.
So I am torn between telling the truth on the Census form (and admit Anna is dead) and breaking the law and noting Anna is alive and living in the house … on this Census night.
It has been weeks since I have cried like this. This is coming from my soul.
My eyes are burning, the trail of salty tears are already forming a crust on my cheeks. The pounding headache is starting.
This was what I felt after Anna died. These heavy, energy-draining crying episodes would come seven or eight times a day.
The ability to speak, to communicate, left me as the tears took control.
So I filled in the Census Form saying Anna was still alive … and went to bed.
Maybe they will find out about my lie? Maybe they won’t.
