I was asked recently what my hopes for Sam’s future are. I don’t usually think about them; I have become accustomed, as he is, to living in the moment, responding to the every day. The future, which once seemed so frightening, a black hole into which my fear fell, amplified by scary sounding medical terms, is no longer so distant. Sam will be leaving school in just two short years. OK, so I know he’ll be off to college of one sort or another, but there you are. He won’t be my small boy any more.
So at the future I was forced to look. And the idea of hopes and dreams, which I so long ago abandoned, returned, changed immeasurably by Down’s syndrome, and yet, funnily enough, not so very much at all.
We want the same things for Sam that we want for our other children, namely, that…
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