I started looking for more advanced educational materials. I went to used bookstores, digging through dusty bins to buy secondhand books on biology, chemistry, anatomy, and physics. Dante devoured them like they were comic books. At six years old, he knew the name of every single bone in the human body. At seven, he understood basic physics principles.
At eight years old, while other kids were wanting to be astronauts or football players, Dante looked at me with those serious, determined eyes and said, “I want to be a doctor, Mama. I want to cure people.”
I looked at that little boy, with his distinctive Down syndrome features, with his slight motor limitations, with his speech that still needed intense therapy to be understood by strangers, and I didn’t see a disability. I saw a giant. I saw a boy who refused to let a diagnosis define the boundaries of his dreams.
I pledged that night that I would break my body before I let poverty stand in his way.
