Monhegan Island

I've heard it said that you should write about what you know. I believe that's true, at least for me, I can speak with more knowledge, passion and conviction when writing about the things I know.
I had the urge  to write about Monhegan. Monhegan is a small island about 11 miles off the coast of Maine. I emphasize the word small as it is about one square mile. There are next to no cars, maybe 2 at most, on the island, you walk everywhere.
I had just graduated from high school and I went there to work. The job wasn't the most terrific, the pay was atrocious, the living conditions worse, but the experience is something I will treasure.
I got off the ferry with my one suitcase of clothes and a box of books. Little did I know there was a truck sent down to transport us and our belongings to our living quarters. I struggled up the hill with my belongings.
As I walked I couldn't help but notice the beauty of the island. Weathered cottages and houses built next to each other. Wild roses trailing in the yards perfumed the air with a sweet fragrance. The scent of the roses mingled with the salt air and assaulted my senses. Freshly washed laundry hung on lines, gently waving in the soft ocean breeze.
I finally made it to the bunkhouse. Well what can I say, 18 girls and one bathroom, this was not good.
I picked a bunk and decided I needed a rest. Laying down I noticed several books piled on the beams. I thought, what friggin idiot would pile books on a beam. I met the idiot, her name was Katherine
Rhoda, before long she and I were best friends. She could play just about any instrument known to man, including a soda bottle and she loved to read, those two things alone were enough for me.
Most of our time was spent working, I had the glorious job of dishwasher. It was fun, especially when we got lobster back in the kitchen because the out of stater couldn't figure out how to get into the shell and get the meat out. The girls would fight to get that lobster, me, I didn't care for lobster. Jo, the old lady who owned the place did the cooking. Believe me she couldn't cook, I mean I like my roast beef rare, but I draw the line at raw. Fortunately we had a girl who did the baking, bread and such, so basically that's what I stuck to. Once a week Rhoda and I would take our meager earnings and shop at the general store, then stop on the way back up the hill at Diane's diner. She grew her vegetables out back so the salad was always fresh. We would always have the spaghetti with a small loaf of homemade bread and salad. We were probably carbed out but we walked everywhere.
Monhegan is an island that draws alot of artists and musicians. Every night after work we'd go to a party. It wasn't your usual get drunk party, no it was a jam session. Musicians would get together and play into the wee hours of the morning. Let me tell you, it was great, but not so great when you have to get up the next morning and go to work. I distinctly remember going to bed late one night, having a nightmare, sitting straight up in bed, the only trouble was that I was in a bunk bed. I bashed my head a good one. Some days I caught up on my sleep in between work shifts.
There is one side of the island that has no houses. It's a sheer drop down to the ocean. I used to take a book there and sit by myself and read. It was a wonderful place to be alone, the waves crashing against the rocks, a place of solitude and peace. As I describe it I almost feel like I am transported back to that place.
All things come to an end. Rhoda and I maintained contact for awhile, she went off to Oberlin college to study music. I came back to the mainland and would eventually get married. She visited us once in our little house. People come in to our lives for a space of time and go on their way. They leave memories behind of other times. As one of my favorite songs goes:

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some are gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all