I sat in my office, reviewing the resume of the next candidate. It was impressive—top law school, excellent grades, and a strong recommendation from his previous employer. I was eager to meet him.
The door opened, and a tall young man in a sharp navy suit walked in. He had an air of confidence but also a certain humility in his posture. As he reached out to shake my hand, something about him felt familiar.
“Good morning, sir,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m Ethan Collins.”
I gestured for him to sit, still trying to place where I had seen those eyes before. “Nice to meet you, Ethan. Let’s get started.”
A Familiar Story
As we spoke, he outlined his experience in corporate law, his passion for justice, and his desire to work for a firm that valued integrity. But something nagged at me—a feeling that I had met him before.
Then, near the end of the interview, I noticed his hands. His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of his pocket as he spoke, and suddenly, a long-buried memory surfaced.
A young boy, no more than six or seven, clutching his mother’s hand in a courtroom. A single mother, caught stealing a blue pen for her son’s birthday. A desperate woman, trying to explain her actions. And me, a fresh-out-of-law-school public defender, pleading her case.
Could it be?
I leaned forward. “Ethan, can I ask you something? Did you grow up in this city?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir. My mom raised me here. It wasn’t easy for her, but she always did her best.”
I took a deep breath. “Did she ever tell you about a court case, years ago, involving a stolen pen?”
Ethan’s eyes widened. He sat back in his chair, stunned. “Yes,” he said softly. “She told me about the kind lawyer who defended her. She said he gave her a second chance, and because of him, she never gave up. She worked three jobs, put me through school… and now, here I am.”
A silence stretched between us, heavy with emotion. Then, Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. A simple, blue pen.
“I always carry one,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “A reminder of where I came from.”
The Power of a Second Chance
I smiled, unable to contain my own emotions. “Ethan, I gave your mother a second chance because she deserved it. And now, I see that she raised a man who deserves his own.”
I stood up and extended my hand. “Welcome to the team, Ethan.”
As he shook my hand, I saw something in his eyes—gratitude, determination, and the quiet pride of a son who had never forgotten what his mother had endured.
That day, I realized that the small moments of kindness we extend can ripple through time in ways we never expect. And sometimes, life has a way of bringing those moments back to us when we least expect them.