Big Blue Sky

Mr. Swanson is a mean old guy. He’s always screamin’ at me for dancin’ in my own front yard. I ran inside and told momma; surely, she’d do somethin’ about it. But she had the nerve to giggle and say, “It builds character to deal with these kinds’a things.” So, in a roundabout way, momma gave me permission - to deal with things.

You see, dancin’ is my favorite thing to do, and ain’t nobody gonna take that from me. My daddy used to always say, “Dancin’ is the closest thing we got to heaven”. As soon as my daddy died, I asked momma if she could get me into one of them tappin’ classes, so I could properly learn. Momma signed me up for Miss Mary’s tappin’ class, who had a dance studio off’a Parker Avenue just a good five minutes away. I couldn’t wait; I was packin’ my bags for heaven… or so I thought.

Class didn’t last very long for me because I was always gettin’ into trouble for the dumbest stuff.

“Milly, you’re not in routine. Please keep up with the rest of the class,” Miss Mary said.

“But Miss Mary, I thought this was a dancin’ class. That’s all I’m doin’,” I said.

Miss Mary rolled her eyes and soon enough she got on me for step-heelin’ while everyone else was heel-steppin’. I didn’t see the harm in addin’ my own sparkle to a borin’ routine.

As soon as momma picked me up from class, I crossed my arms real hard, “I ain’t ever goin’ back.”

She smiled, “Why not?”

I furrowed my brow, “What sense does it make to be in a dancin’ class when you ain’t ever allowed to dance?” Momma put her hand on my leg and squeezed it but didn’t say anything else.

So here we are. Momma won’t let me dance inside because I cause a ruckus. So, I don’t have no other option but to visit daddy right here in this front yard – that just happens to be shared with Mr. Swanson, ‘cause our houses are stuck together.

“Get inside, girl. You got the worse manners. Your momma ‘oughta paint your back porch red,” Mr. Swanson said.

Every dang time he has to say somethin’. As he walked back inside, I stuck my tongue out at him and then I prayed to God that He cast him away like He did the devil, ‘cause only devils try to stop people from goin’ to heaven.

After momma told me to deal with things, I marched outside on a mission. But first, I gotta make a plan. I moseyed on over to Mr. Swanson’s window to see if I could get any sort’a inspiration. I cupped my hands around my eyes and pressed my face hard against the glass, not carin’ if he saw me.

His livin’ room was much different than I’d imagined. It was small, just like ours. But boy, oh, boy was it colorful. Orange curtains surrounded my face that dressed the window. The floors had bright green shag carpet and the painted white walls were made of wood that went from the ground to the ceiling. All sorts’a crazy pictures that looked like somethin’ that Picassy guy would’a made - or whatever his name was. A single rockin’ chair painted sky blue with a plush orange pillow to make anybody’s butt extra comfy. On the wall across from me was a round brown table with a single marigold flower in a green vase that looked hand painted. Above that very same table was a picture of a woman with the biggest smile I ever saw. Her red hair was wrapped in a beehive and she had on purple kitty cat glasses and a white blouse. But not just any white, a pearl white. For a moment, I wondered who she was to Mr. Swanson.

Suddenly, I felt a hard nudge on my back and turned around to see Mr. Swanson standin’ over me, lowerin’ his cane.

“What the hell you think you doin, girl?” He shouted.

This was my chance. I stood up and faced him as much as I could – he was probably double my size.

“I gotta deal with things, Mr. Swanson! And I’ll be dealin’ with them right here and now!”

I ‘membered how momma said that things like this make a character out’ta people and I thought about that Popeye cartoon where he always rolled up his sleeves; so I did the same.

Mr. Swanson raised his eyebrows and soon enough, I lunged for the old geezer. I kept hittin’ and swingin’ and hittin’ and swingin’, but nothin’ ever met the end of my fists. I opened my eyes and Mr. Swanson had his hand on my head stoppin’ me from dealin’ with things. He pushed me back and my heels stopped my fall.

“Like I said, you got the worst manners, girl”. He turned to walk away.

At this point, I’d really had enough, “First of all, my name is Milly. That’s M-I-L-L-Y! Not girl. Second of all, you’re the one with no manners, Mr. Swanson!”

He slowly turned around and raised an eyebrow with amusement, “Oh yeah? How so?”

I could feel my face gettin’ pouty, “’Cause when my daddy died, you didn’t even come over and ask how me and momma was. Not once. Then you get on me for tryn’a visit my daddy.”

I looked up at him and could feel tears in the corner of my eyes but tried my best to put on a mean face. I ain’t gonna back down just ‘cause some silly strings are pullin’ in my heart somewhere.

Mr. Swanson was silent for awhile. Then he grumbled, “What do you mean visitin’ your daddy?”

“My daddy told me the closest thing to heaven is dancin’, so that’s all I’m doin’. You could just mind your own,” I said as I crossed my arms.

I believe Mr. Swanson was thinkin’ on what I said for a bit because then he said, “Let me show you somethin’,” and he waved his hand, gesturin’ me to follow him. He opened his front door and pointed at the picture of the woman above the brown table with the red beehive hair and purple kitty cat glasses with the white blouse. But not just any white, a pearl white.

Then Mr. Swanson said, “That there woman is Darla - the lov’a my life. I ain’t ever loved nobody as much as her. We ain’t never had the chance of havin’ a family together ‘cause she died real young. Not much older than your momma. Gone 24 years, yesterday.” He lowered his hand and I could see his face soften. The softest I ever saw Mr. Swanson before. He was real quiet for awhile. He wasn’t cryin’ on the outside, but I think his insides sure were.

Mr. Swanson then said, “I reckon you wouldn’t mind showin’ me some of those dance moves?”

Months had gone by and Mr. Swanson and I were just a couple of pals. He never once stopped me from visitin’ daddy and sometimes he’d join in too so he could visit Mrs. Swanson. Wavin’ his hands in the air, kickin’ his feet where they needed to be. He’d tell me stories about Darla and their travels together and how she was such a colorful person in a black and white world. He also mentioned that he left the house just the way she had it. I told him that momma did the same thing with daddy’s workshop in the basement. Momma wouldn’t let me go down there without her, ‘fraid I’d move somethin’. It was like his own museum.

One particular day I went over to Mr. Swanson’s and knocked on his door, but he didn’t answer. Mr. Swanson’s black ’75 Ford F-150 pickup-truck was parked outside; so, I knew he was home. I walked away and started movin’ my hips, did the best I could to dance without him. But I couldn’t move them as much as I wanted to ‘cause my tummy was tellin’ me there was somethin’ wrong. I went over to Mr. Swanson’s door again and knocked louder and harder. No answer.

This time, I went over to his window and cupped my hands ‘round my face and pressed myself against the window. There he was. Mr. Swanson layin’ on the ground with the same expression daddy had on his last day.

I ran inside my house and was yellin’ “Momma! Momma! Where are you?! Momma!”

She ran downstairs in a panic, “What is it Milly?”

“Momma you gotta come see. It’s Mr. Swanson”.

She followed me to his window and made a loud gasp, and then she ran back inside. Moments later, she came back out with a telephone pressed hard against her face.

Several minutes later the ambulance was here, and they had to remove Mr. Swanson’s door to get inside. They put him on one of them movin’ beds, but as he was rolled out, his face was covered. Momma walked up to one of them paramedics and I couldn’t make out what they was sayin’ - but I knew; Mr. Swanson was gone. I sat down on the ground and hugged my knees real hard. I looked up at the big blue sky and felt like everyone was lookin’ down on me. God, Daddy, Mr. Swanson, and even Mrs. Swanson too.

Then out’ta nowhere, I just started laughin’. Laughin’ so hard, I could barely breathe.

Momma came up to me and grabbed my arm and whisper-yelled at me “Milly, quit that! This is serious!”. But I still couldn’t stop laughin’.

Momma’s eyes got so big, “What has gotten into you, child?”

Then she stomped inside the house, sure ‘nough upset over my poor manners. But Momma didn’t know what was so funny. Momma didn’t know that dancin’ is what got Mr. Swanson into heaven.