Watching Maribel sing was a strange experience for me. She stood up there alone -- and in a family of seven, you're never alone -- wearing her usual dark, drab clothes. The choir behind her had on sky blue robes, as if by dressing that way they could get closer to God. I laughed, because I know half those kids, and they'll never get to heaven no matter how many Hail Mary's they say. But I was there for Maribel, so I kept my mouth shut and waited.
When the music started, I shifted in my seat, anticipating the moment. She'd warned me not to get my hopes up, that she had been turned down for the solo and was only doing it now because the other girl got sick. But she'd had a little too much hope in her eyes for me to completely believe her modesty.
Then she sang, and I felt like I was meeting her for the first time.
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