Memories of My Other Mother, Angie...

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When I was a child, my neighbors had a 30ish-year-old Down Syndrome daughter named Angie. She would always claim to me that she was my mother and that she had me with the weatherman on Channel 9.

"Angie's really not my mother, is she?" I would ask my father very worriedly.

He would laugh and tell me no.  Martha was my mother.

"I don't know why she keeps saying that," my father would tell me with a chuckle.

She was very ample chested and my face would get buried in her cleavage when she gave me a hard squeeze of a hug. I found this unnerving to say the least.