Carly Bennett Donovan drove through commuter traffic to her office downtown.  Her last glance in the full-length mirror in her bathroom had reassured her that she looked as if she could face the day.  Today would be another in a series of conflict-driven meetings with her clients, those she had served for the past ten years as a court mediator.  Her previous career as a social worker had left her feeling frustrated and powerless, leading her to explore other options.   She still wondered if that had been a wise move.

Too late for second thoughts, she commanded herself, as she pulled into her parking space near the juvenile court.  Today’s meetings would involve the usual clients whose children had been removed, and who now would fight the system, attempting to reduce the strength of the allegations against them through mediation.  Carly’s role would be to facilitate this process and in the end, make a recommendation to the court….

And then it began, this day like all others, with numerous demands crowding in upon her and partially assuaging the angst she felt every day. 

If she had set out to choose a career that could successfully atone for the past, she had chosen well.

But at moments throughout the day, her thoughts slid backwards, despite her best efforts, and she could almost see that younger, idealistic version of herself.  That girl who had believed in endless possibilities, who had fought the system hell-bent on winning.  That young woman who had ignored her ideals in one summer of foolish choices, transforming herself from a fresh young thing with her whole life ahead of her into this woman of today, who often longed for yesterday and a clean slate with fresh options.