Living on a riverbank is living on the edge. It is an in-between space; not usually water, but not always land either. I’m not sure what I expected to find.

I remember when I first set eyes on this tiny house that was to become my home. My car rounded a bend in the road, and I saw the house perched on the edge of the river. It was a gloriously golden autumn day. The wind’s tart-apple breath scattered fallen leaves around my feet as I stepped out of the car. I did not immediately fall in love with the house, in fact, after seventeen years I still do not like it.  Why would I buy a house I didn’t like?

It was the river who enchanted me. She seduced me into imagining myself sitting in my cozy chair, favorite cup of cinnamon tea in hand, enjoying the peaceful view. Of woods and water and wildlife…the graceful swans, lively ducks and opportunistic heron. The river sparkled with glamour as she bubbled musically for the graceful dryads dancing in their autumn cloaks. Oh, so romantic.

Only later did I learn that sometimes the view encroaches on my home.  Red-eyed possums crawl up into the floorboards and shelter beneath my dishwasher. A family of raccoons furiously digs and argues underneath the house. The squirrels play soccer with my carefully planted marigolds.

After days of darkness and rain, the river herself sneaks up to my home and peers in at me. I can almost hear the accompanying narrator, “See the human in her natural habitat; a musty, warped wooden cottage.”  I gaze out from my quavering cottage and into the unfathomable eyes of a shapeshifter. She is no longer the dryads’ shimmering friend who charmed me that first day.  She would as easily drag them down as sing for them.

 I am in her domain, and she insinuates herself into my dreams: I wake in utter darkness, swing my feet down to the floor and feel icy water surrounding my ankles.  I back my car out of the driveway at night and suddenly realize that the car is floating away…

We came to an agreement years ago. The land my house sits on belongs to her. She will not come inside my house, but only if I continue to believe she will not.