THE LOCKET

“Baby, take this locket!” Mamoo squeezed my hand tightly as I sat next to her in the bed in the living room. She just suffered what could be her third heart attack clutching her chest. She was in the middle of cooking my favorite dish of Turnip, Mustard, and Collard Greens with Smoked Turkey. The aroma of down-home soul food filled our small one bedroom Section 8 apartment located in the South Loop of Chicago next to the historic Bronzeville neighborhood.

Bronzeville was Chicago’s Black Metropolis from the 1920’s through the 1950’s. It included the famed Regal Theater hosting the most glamourous entertainers like Cab Calloway and black movie stars like Dorothy Dandridge. It was also home to prominent African American literary artists and intellectuals like journalists and social activist Ida B Wells; author Richard Wright and poet Gwendolyn Brooks. I would exaggerate when asked what side of town I lived. I’d say "next to 'Bronzeville'" and watch eyes light up in amazement.

My grandmother’s grasp was strong, pressing the big silver locket into my palm until it turned red and made a heart indentation deep into my palm. Almost like she was burning love into my soul through my hand. “Baby, you talked about this day. The Apocalypse.” “And I halfway thought you were ‘touched’ at times. Because I didn’t want to believe it could be true. But like your momma tole' me and I kept it a secret all these years. You have the ‘sight’. You have the ‘sight’.” My grandmother, Mamoo was from my father’s side. She was mixed with Cherokee, white and African ancestry. She moved from Macon Georgia to follow her sons up to Detroit after World War I after my grandfather Shep died. Leaving behind the land she tilled and knew. Passing knowledge of snakes, herbs and edibles to forage down to me and my 15 siblings. My father had many kids because it was his dream to return back south to farm. He never made it back to Georgia. Now he was dead of prostate cancer 10 years and me and those of my siblings were scattered over the fifty states and Europe. Mamoo and I moved from Detroit to Chicago for greener pastures.

Mamoo kept secret about the predictive ‘dreams’ I had of people in my family. If there was a death or traumatic event, I would dream it months before it would happen sometimes warn members. Often times, I was ignored or feared. Making me pretty unpopular. At an early age, Mamoo, and my mother, warned me not to share my dreams, especially of death and destruction. But, if tragedy struck, I knew months in advance, already praying to God for mercy or help. Mom called it a ‘gift’. I thought it a ‘curse’. I feared sleep and had chronic insomnia. I’d often awaken in a cold sweat shaking. Sometimes screaming. Or worse swinging, punching or kicking imaginary foes to my grandmother trying to wake me. But to me, they were real. My grandmother ‘Mamoo’ called it ‘the sight’.

I never told a soul. Not even my boyfriends, which I could not keep. I would often dream of their unfaithfulness and confront them in waking hours. Only to have them deny what I knew I had seen in my dreams. Coupled with gynecological visits due to catching something, or having some type of discharge or UTI infection, just wore me out and caused me to stop dating all together nearly two decades now. I decided this next decade was dedicated to bettering myself, travelling and most importantly, spending time with Mamoo of the few years she had left.

“Baby, just remember to follow the lake. And only open the locket when you get to the City of Evanston. Remember to travel by night and sleep hidden under some leaves and trees during the day with your tent. You know how, baby. You’ve gone over this with me a million times, baby. When you told me if something big happened you could ‘Bug Out’." My grandmother whispered still pressing the locket with one hand and clutching her heart grimacing at times with the other.

My heart felt like it would explode with grief. I wanted to cry. Yell. But, this would accomplish nothing. I told myself to be strong for my Mamoo. She had been strong for me all these years growing up. She would read stories. Attend my basketball games and track meets. Teach me to cook and wipe away my tears. She always cooked for the holidays. And sent cards with money when I was struggling in college.

“Baby, just follow the moon over the lake. Move at night. Sleep during the day.” She repeated dozing off. She relaxed the locket and it dropped into my sweaty palm. The long silver chain made a slight clink, as it slid through my fingers. Mamoo was finally asleep. But, my mind raced. I could hear screaming outside and sirens. Neighbors were yelling and arguing in the hallways. I tip toed quietly over to the wooden dining room table. Lit a candle. And began writing out my plan of action.

Mamoo used to laugh and scold me for forcing her to watch every episode of National Geographic “Doomsday Preppers” and “Alone” now on Hulu. And laughed when I purchased my own ‘Bug Out Bag’ filled with essentials like a compact tent, thermal sleeping bag; Leatherman multi tool, paracord; ferro rod, tarp, amongst my supplies. I didn’t consider myself a real ‘prepper’. But I did have my bag and put on my KUIU camouflage tops and bottom rain gear on starting out. I never actually believed that I would every use this stuff I collected until now.

“Yep.” I thought to myself. The worst did happen. My neighbors and the sirens quieted down as the afternoon wore on. But my mind still raced. Less than 3 days prior a massive solar storm hit the United States and knocked out the grid. I hadn't dreamed it. First, the West Coast grid failed, then rolling blackouts. Followed by the Midwest Grid failing. And now the East Coast was experiencing blackouts. But, I didn’t know to what extent because Mamoo forced me to turn the tv off. Her heart could not take it. We had watched television 24/7 nonstop. She had enough. Plus, the media was just showing the same thing over and over.

Panic in the stores; fights, police everywhere. And scientists with experts on tv giving their opinions. Some media were actually downplaying it. Saying the government said power would be back on in days. And this was just a minor flare. And the grid system was just moderately damaged. But that was politics. I knew better. One of the building guards, who still came to work told us that North America including Canada, and Mexico suffered a major EMP Carrington Event. And massive fires were occurring all over the country, especially on the West Coast that already suffered wildfires and drought before the event. Even Iowa and Maryland were also burning.

A Carrington Event was named after the major solar EMP Event or Electromagnetic Pulse in 1859. Back then, it started fires and burnt electrical lines. Telegraph systems failed. EMP’s with sudden bursts of solar flares are unpredictable and happen every 150 years. But Carrington Events are massive powerful geomagnetic storms of major solar coronal mass ejections that hit the earth's protective magnetosphere every 500 years.

2021’s Carrington event was just 2 months shy of the 162nd anniversary of that famous date. Falling on July 1st in the middle of the night rather than September 1st or 9-1-1. Reminiscent of the World Trade Tower burning. Strangely, the sound of my two cellphone annoying alarms did not go off. But I had forgotten to set them. Staying up too late joking with Mamoo. Then, I tried to log on remotely for work. I was not able to. But, read the email from my employer that we had an “event” and were closed until further notice.

Despite the chaos, I welcomed the time off. Section 8 had our rent pretty low and between my savings and Mamoo’s social security and pension, rent and food were covered. We had food, water and a lot of toilet paper. We had learned from Covid to have supplies.

Now, as I sat with the sun coming through the blinds staring at my list, occasionally looking over at Mamoo. Worry faded off her. And soft grey curls caressed her peaceful face with her bun rested atop her head. She stirred like me when she slept mumbling and talking scolding someone. I wondered what she was dreaming and I worried about leaving. But we had already agreed that I would leave after 3 days and she would stay if something happened.

At 80 years old with a bad hip, she had lived a full life and was not ‘Bugging Out’. Having traveled the globe after she retired as a pediatric nurse, then volunteering. She put in her time. She said she would be fine. And for me to go to my ‘safe zone’ which was Saskatchewan Canada. My high school friend, Shelia Sherman, had a farm there. But I kept wondering what was in the locket. And was tempted many times to open it. Was it a picture of my beloved father, or of her? What was in the locket that made her press so hard into my hand, I thought she would break it. I looked over at her again as I put it around my neck and held the smooth heart-shaped memento between my fingers. It was hard to wait.

I hoped Sheila would welcome me. I had not talked to her in awhile. And always turned down her invitations. Using excuses like work or not being able to afford to travel. Shelia had introduced me to selling essential oils. And we had just reconnected after many years. Now, could I depend on her to save my life? Either way, Canada was my destination. But I still struggled with the thought of leaving. I glanced at my watch, which was still working and decided that I would leave after a nap, at dusk. I lost my appetite. And did not want to wake Mamoo when I left. I would leave a note. That was easiest.

I planned to be in Evanston by the morning. By car, Evanston normally would be a 45-minute drive from the South Loop. But walking was going to be at least 8 hours for me. I also had a bad hip and would be walking with my Hurrycane, a collapsible cane. Saskatchewan Canada was exactly 1,363.5 miles or 444 hours by car. Driving from Chicago would normally take 20 hours and two minutes. Walking, I figured at most, it would take me 3 months. And that worried me.

I rubbed the locket again. I quietly got up. Blew out the candle and made my way to the bedroom. I was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. Covid and now a nationwide blackout. It was too much. I looked over once more at Mamoo who was now quietly snoring with her back facing me.

I crept into the bedroom. Closed the door. The birds were softly twirping as a soft breeze blew through the curtains with the late afternoon sun warming my face. It was quiet. I took the locket from around my neck, rubbing it thinking of Mamoo, who wore this locket year after year. Never taking it off. “Just a peek.” I told myself looking at the door, hoping she would not walk in.” She will never know.” I slowly pried open the shiny locket. Inside read an address and a license plate with the words. “Keys under the mat. Have a great life. I love you. Mamoo.”

Mamoo had saved a ‘Bug Out Vehicle” for me in Evanston that probably had a full tank of gas so I could drive to Canada. I was going to be ok. Mamoo had made sure of it.