ESSAY
SPRING 2020 • THE MISSOURI REVIEW 139
Sometime in late March the camper trailer appears:
fifteen feet long with a crude black-and-green paint job,
discarded on our property behind Starbucks, Little
Caesars, and the AT&T store. It sits parallel to one of the
metal outbuildings my father rents from my sister-in-law,
my husband, and me for his
woodworking projects,
the front-end tongue jack