Shaping the Crazy

This weekend, I stood on the Kingston waterfront in front of a sculpture I have known for years.

It is called Time.

Two large forms lean toward one another, balanced with space between them. What makes the sculpture so interesting is that it changes depending on where you stand. From one angle, the forms seem close together. From another, they seem farther apart. The sculpture itself does not change, but your view of it does.

I remember the first time I saw it.

My ex-husband’s grandfather brought us there on my first visit to Kingston. As he introduced us to the sculpture, he explained that if you moved around it, you would see something different each time. A few steps could change the whole picture.

At the time, I understood what he meant about the artwork. I do not think I understood yet what he was saying about life.

Years later, I became engaged to my ex-husband in that same place. I was younger then and looking toward a future I thought I could see clearly. I had ideas about what my life would look like, what love meant, and where I was headed.

Then life happened.

There was marriage, children, work, joy, disappointment, change and all the ordinary moments that fill the years in between.

Much later, after my separation, I returned to Kingston with my two children. The sculpture was the same, but I was not.

I expected the place to make me think about what had ended. Instead, I felt grateful for all the moments and memories that had filled those years.

My children were standing there beside me, and I realized that life is rarely as simple as saying something worked out or it did not. Some chapters end differently than we hoped, but that does not erase everything good that came from them.

I also began to understand that seeing the past differently does not mean I was wrong before. I was simply looking at life from where I stood at the time.

I knew what I knew then.

Then I lived more, learned more and changed.

That is part of getting older.

Our perspective changes because we change. We gather experience, we understand ourselves better, and sometimes things that once seemed very clear become more complicated, or even more forgiving.

We learn that two things can be true at the same time. Something can have hurt us and still have brought something beautiful into our lives. We can change our minds without pretending that the person we used to be was foolish or wrong.

She simply had not lived these years yet.

This weekend, I returned to Time again.

This time, I was alone.

I stood farther back and looked at the sculpture from another angle, and for a moment it felt almost like standing in a time portal.

I could picture the younger woman who had first visited Kingston. I could see the woman who stood there imagining the life ahead of her. I could see the mother who returned years later with her children and viewed the same place through very different eyes.

And then I could see myself, standing there now.

Older, certainly. A little wiser, I hope. Softer in some ways and stronger in others.

For much of my life, I have learned to depend on myself. I have made difficult choices, found my way through change and kept moving forward even when I was not entirely sure where I was going.

Standing there, I did not feel sad for the women I had been.

I felt grateful for them.

Each one was doing the best she could with the life she understood at the time. Each one carried me a little farther along the journey.

And I realized that someday I will probably return to Kingston again.

I will stand in front of Time as another version of myself, carrying experiences I have not yet had and lessons I have not yet learned.

When I do, I will remember the woman who stood there this weekend too. Maybe I will see her differently. I hope I do, because that will mean I kept living, learning and growing.

All those years ago, my ex-husband’s grandfather was simply explaining a sculpture to us. I did not realize then how much truth there was in what he was saying.

The sculpture stays where it is.

We are the ones who move.

We change our position. We gather experience. We see things we could not see before. And with enough time, we are sometimes able to step back and look at our lives from a completely different angle.

For now, I like where I am standing.

I know the view will change again someday, because that is what time does. It moves us forward, quietly changing who we are and how we see the life we have lived.

Grandpa was a clever man. It took me years to understand what he was really teaching me that day, but I carry his lesson about time in my heart now.

— Christine Brazeau