I married a river rat

I married a river rat. Growing up in the coteau region of the state, we had sloughs and we waded in them, but we did not have a river. We didn't canoe, kayak or boat. My grandfathers and uncles fished, but we just didn't go near the water. Oh, there's Salt Lake near Streeter; we used to go and drink beer there, but I have heard that body of water is huge these days and actually joined forces with another...
So, when I first moved to Mandan, then Bismarck, then Mandan, I did not go near the river. Nope, had better things to do I guess, I liked camping. We spent some time camping at the tail race near Garrison and at Little Yellowstone Park south of Valley City, but I didn't go near the river. I heard it was evil.
Then I met a river rat. There were lots of them, like a secret underground civilization, we spent the weekends, every single weekend on the river. We had a houseboat. Days were spent on the shore, around campfires, looking for rocks, fishing, just hanging around. Evenings were on the boat. Sleeping on the water was awesome. It was the river and me. The moon reflecting off a still shining ribbon making its way south. The boats were gone, the jet skies gone, it was quiet. It was heaven. And, now, we are living near the river, on an old river channel in fact. We couldn't launch our boat, we couldn't fish, but we enjoyed the big old cottonwood trees. I could hang my laundry out all year long, and I had a garden irrigated with river water from an old channel that Chuck Mork dug for his fields. I love that place, I loved the river. As an artist, I drew inspiration from the river, wove baskets out of cottonwood roots and made candles in the sand. But now, I'm kinda disappointed in the river... for taking over my small piece of property, my garden, my flocks of turkeys and pheasants. I want to go home. It's been about 27 days since we have been home - my tablecloth is getting larger every day. It's that I don't love having a host home. We are getting fed like queens and kings and feel very comfortable indeed. But, I want to go. I promise never to complain about my house being too small, or too old or having old furniture again.. And, I'm sure I will grow to love the river again, because you cannot deny the beauty. Square Butte is so green it looks like Ireland north of our house. One day at a time, we will get by.