Like catching a snowflake on the back of your hand and seeing every little stem of it before it melted. I was frozen in my spot backstage at the Paterson Center for the Performing Arts. My best friend, Crissy, grabbed my hand and put her other hand over her mouth. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “Is that her?” “It is,” I said. “It’s Isabel Rossetti.” Isabel Rossetti is widely considered one of the greatest sopranos on earth. Some people disagree, of course, but at this moment I was ready to put her up there in the top ten of all time. And all she was doing was running scales. “Dammit!” she yelled. Then we heard something smash. “Never in my life…” Crissy and I backed up beside some chairs that were stacked against a wall. The dressing-room door was slightly open. I could see Isabel inside, her hands deep in the thick curls on her head. “It’s lemon!”
