I was sitting on the edge of my hospital bed, finishing my supper, when my eye followed the contour of Connaught Hill down to the Prince George Library. The late afternoon sun reflecting off the sandstone colour panels triggered a really good feeling. Why the library you might ask? At one time in my early days in PG, I spent a great deal of time at the library surfing the internet looking for work in every other place but Prince George. I had to laugh at this and I had to laugh long and hearty. Not only did I not find work, no, I did have the chance to work in Blue River, making more money than I’d ever made doing something I might have really enjoyed. The one major problem, okay, two major problems; 1) I would have had to cut my golden (now grey) locks and 2) I may not have stayed clean and sober. The amount of cocaine and other things rumoured to be floating around that heliskiing joint (pardon the pun) was deeper than the powder the resort was famous for.
I was not only going to work in Prince George but I was going to work in a flower shop. It proves to “never say never”. I once said I’d never work in a flower shop again. Yet there I was, in Prince George, working as a floral designer. So many paradoxes in Prince George. I had to surrender to win, I had to give up on seeking love to find it, I had to publish a paper to open new doors and I had to get a severe case of arthritis to learn about how not to take things for granted and the list goes on and on.
Paradox and irony are things I adore and the greatest of all ironies is; the place I desperately wished to get away from has given me everything I’ve ever really wanted in life.