I’ve been intrigued by the connections Summer Brennan makes between prosody and prose in The Essay Series #1: The Essay as Energy. I experimented with some of these connections in a revision of a “5 Things” draft that came out of my participation in her Essay Camp this month.

The questions that fascinated me most are: What happens to prose when short sentences come in a series? When short sentences alternate with sentences of moderate length or sentences that meander like stream of consciousness work? What about repetition in prose? What about actual meter?

One year ago, I got a popup camper, a 10.5 foot box so tiny I can tow it with my 2012 minivan. It doesn’t have room for anyone but 5 foot 2 inch me and my 15 pound dog. It’s a perfect getaway vehicle for me, even if I don’t go anywhere in it.

Losing my train of thought in reaction to sudden, loud noises is now my default fault. Here’s a word problem: I have two dogs, one husband. Two are loud. I won’t say who. Every month, I take my tiny camper to a state or county park with the quiet dog.

My plan for November is escaping to the camper in the driveway where it’s parked. Today is my first driveway day. And also the next day. Do Catholic priests say, “Peace be with you,” so you’ll say, “And also with you” to the priests? Peace be with you.

Sudden loud noises aren’t my sole distraction. Inside my house, I distract myself. Houseplants need watering. Laundry needs doing. Dinner needs cooking. Bathroom needs cleaning. I’ve loved writing for over fifty years. I’ll do anything to avoid it.

I’ve been a woman for over fifty years, too. In the tiny camper, there’s no houseplants, no laundry, no cooking, no bathroom. No reflex to meet a need. I wish to be as unresponsive as weather. Some much needed rain has fallen in the past two days.

The tiny camper is a triangular aluminum can. The drizzle pings it. The drip from overhanging trees pongs it. The wind throws twigs at it. None of this distracts me. I have wanted to be alone all my life, all my life, all my life. It’s not about the noise.