Matteo is eight years old, a beautiful age, of discoveries, of goals, of novelty.
Matteo, however, is a Sanfilippo child and works in reverse: the goals must be told to the past, the future is the time of loss.
Can anyone among you imagine how much sadness goes hand in hand with nostalgia for the past? The scooter, once consumed by wild runs, is now crammed into the cellar, Matteo can no longer use it. The others play hide-and-seek, Matteo looks at them, now he can no longer curl up behind that hedge, he can’t make it. The words spoken in bursts with their mouths full of joy are now uncertain and imperfect stutters. And all those balls he’s rolled by speeding steady and safe, now they get weak, sly kicks.
The light remains in those big eyes that now speak better than the mouth. There remains the laugh that drives away every cloud. And that impertinent good mood that Matthew never abandons, softening even the gruff of gruff. Matthew is eight years old and his progress is beginning to be a memory.
The meaning of the donations we are asking for is to support research to fuel a dream. The dream, for Matteo’s parents, is that there are no more families living in memory.