It’s my last day at the Fitzhugh and like many other occasions in the past few months, I find myself pondering the concept of random.

I eventually had to look up the word in the dictionary and here’s what I came across:

ran·dom (adjective)

1. proceeding, made, or occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern: the random selection of numbers.

2. Statistics of or characterizing a process of selection in which each item of a set has an equal probability of being chosen.

3. Building Trades

a. (of building materials) lacking uniformity of dimensions: random shingles.

b. (of ashlar) laid without continuous courses.

c. constructed or applied without regularity: random bond.

4. Informal

a. unknown, unidentified, or out of place: A couple of random guys showed up at the party.

b. odd and unpredictable in an amusing way: my totally random life.

Note the last definition. I think that’s what I was referring to.

I started applying it to the past few years of my life; eight years ago while swearing I would never date another guy again, I met the love of my life and, within three months of dating, sold everything I owned, kissed my family and friends goodbye and drove “out west.” Side note: The concept of “out west” was something talked and dreamed about by every Ontario teenager. Random.

Upon settling in B.C., I realized that I was wasting the diploma I had collecting dust in my closet and that it was time to get a job in my field. I happened to meet a guy, who knew a guy, who knew the editor at a newspaper. Random.

Against all odds, the editor took a chance on a 30-year-old, very green, wanna-be journalist and within six months I was sitting in the editor’s chair. Random.

A little over two years later when I was thinking about what my next steps would be, a phone call from the publisher of another paper – the Fitzhugh – wanting to know if I was interested in the editor’s position. I hadn’t even applied because I didn’t think I had the experience they wanted, but an opportunity is an opportunity. I seized it and landed in Jasper – where I had done a stint in my first years “out west” and where I never thought I’d return. Random.

Then, three months ago, a phone call that would forever change my life and would make my decision to return to Ontario exactly eight years from when I left (swearing that I’d never return – except to visit). Random, though not as amusing.

Last week, I travelled to my in-laws’ place to spend the weekend and say goodbye. While I was there, we attended the grand opening of Don’t Look Down Tattoo, a new shop in Kelowna. At the grand opening event, the shop was raising money and awareness for local autistic children in partnership with the Central Okanagan Child Development Association. Their artists were providing tattoos and piercings by minimum donation and auctioning off custom art pieces.

I left with a tattoo of Homer Simpson’s skull on my arm. The artist who tattooed me thanked me for getting the most ridiculous tattoo of the day.

The tattoo was something my dear mother-in-law insisted she’d like to do for me to make my last weekend in Kelowna both special and memorable. Random – as a tattoo is not something you’d expect to get from your mother-in-law.

And now, writing this Last Word, I prepare myself for the inevitable end of the day that should mean the weekend, but really means the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. That’s not random, but the fact that it’s supposed to be in the high 20s and sunny as I leave Jasper when I waited for summer to come for so long (gasp for breath) is.

So, I again embark upon the cross-country (I know Melissa, it’s not really cross-country. Man, why do people think the world ends in Ontario?!) drive to be with the fam, I ponder again what random things are awaiting me now. Will my cats actually behave the entire way, leaving me to feel like a dummy for stressing about their well-being for the past week? Will Little Red make it across the country without incident and be good on gas? Will I land a good job and a fabulous apartment? And, most importantly, will I get the outcome I am hoping for?

I guess I’ll just have to do what I’ve always done and fly by the seat of my pants, living and loving life, and not worrying so much about what is going to happen. 

With that Jasper, I bid you adieu. It was a great year, you are a great town and I have no doubt that I will be back – randomly of course.

DISCLAIMER: The Last Word is an opinion column, it is meant to provoke thought and debate. As such, any opinions written here are the writer’s own and do not reflect the viewpoint of any other Fitzhugh staff member or the directors of the Jasper Media Group Inc.