Just before I passed the threshold into his room I noticed a sign which read, 'wash your hands'. Then there he was. I recoiled in shock, turned and walked back out the door.

"That's him," the nurse said. "I know. I just forgot to wash my hands," I lied trying to cover myself.

Then I gathered myself, went back in and sat down opposite him. He was sitting up in bed with a can of soda with a straw in it on the table. I told him who I was and wished him a happy birthday. He was excited and asked me to set up the game. His face was so disfigured that he had difficulty talking. But I finally understood that he wanted a sip of his pop but was unable to pick it up for himself. So I picked up the can and brought it to his lips.

With the ice broken, we played Monopoly for about 30 minutes, with me shaking the dice and moving his pieces for him. Then the nurse came and said it was time for him to rest. Marcos thanked me profusely for the game and for coming to see him. Driving home I screamed in rage and pounded the steering wheel. Then I started crying.

With third-degree burns over 70 percent of his body, Marcos miraculously returned home after 95 days in the hospital. The last time he was home was Christmas morning. Then, the family lived in a small, two-bedroom apartment on Banning's run-down, lower east side.

Now, through community donations, the Montalvo family was able to get out of the memory-filled duplex and rent a nicer apartment, with new furniture, a home where they could better care for Marcos.

"It's wonderful," Christina said amid balloons, ribbons and banners welcoming Marcos home. "It's a miracle to have him home again."
Friends, relatives and well wishers from the community stopped by to say hello and there were smiles on everyone's faces. Faith in God has helped the Montalvos cope with this tragedy.

"We have to be like a rock," Julio said. "We have to be strong. We're supposed to remember the good times, not what happened. We have to continue with life, the future. We cannot afford to go down.

"It's pretty bad, what happened to us but then it is a miracle because we feel God closer to us. This is God's will, we have to understand that, good, bad, whatever."

Dr. Thomas Flemmer was in charge of Marcos' rehabilitation program at the San Bernardino Burn Unit. He says he switched his treatment program from, "Will Marcos live" to "How will he look."

"He is a polite, bright child who should have a normal life span with normal life experiences," Flemmer says. "But there may be a perceptual problem. If people think he's ugly, nasty or violates what their expectations of a normal human are, then you have a problem. So it's our job to recognize that and be there for him, but on the other hand, we need to let him go about being a kid too.

Julio and Christina were unemployed when Mark came home. They had spent every day for the past three months traveling to the burn unit. Ironically, they were disallowed Aid to Families with Dependent Children because of the monetary outpouring from the community.

This cross marks the site where four children were burned to death in a 1992, Christmas-Day car accident caused by a drunk driver with three prior DUI convictions. Killed in the inferno were twins Adrian and Adriana Montalvo, 7, Julio Montalvo, Jr., 15, and Michelle Montalvo, 14.

Marcos Montalvo, 9, was pulled from the burning Ford Galaxie and miraculously recovered from burns which covered more than 70 percent of his body. After four months in the Burn Unit at San Bernardino County Hospital, he returned to what remained of his family in Banning. By this time Marcos' parents', Julio and Christina, had moved to a new home. Christina could not bear to stay in the now-quiet home where once there had been so much life.

After the first night in his new home, Julio carries Marcos to a friend's car for the daily drive from Banning to the burn unit.

A nurse massages Marco's hand.

Painting is one of Marcos' rehabilitation