Memories of a Well Loved
Sara B. 11/07
Dana Scully looked
around the attic, it was filled with a lifetime of memories; her mom’s lifetime.
‘How many houses on how many bases had she moved so many of these treasured possessions?’ She asked herself.
Against the far
wall were the boxes of holiday decorations; Christmas, New Years, Easter, Memorial Day, Halloween, St. Patrick’s Day,
Thanksgiving and Independence Day. She could hear her mom’s gentle admonishment. ‘No, Dana, not Fourth of July, it’s Independence Day. Never forget it and never forget what it stands for.’ She
never called it that again and she always remembered what the day represented; Duty, Honor, Fidelity, Sacrifice, Bravery and,
most of all, Freedom.
In those boxes
there were every type of decoration you could think of and they were always lovingly displayed. She knew there were four turkeys made from tracing a hand and decorated by budding Scully artists. There were Easter Eggs with ribbon hangers created by blowing out the insides of eggs
and hand decorated at their kitchen table. In the Christmas box pipe cleaner
Christmas trees rested next to hand blown ornaments from around the globe; and both were loved equally.
corner was an old sea chest which she knew held the home made scrap books for the four Scully children. Maggie Scully was into scrap booking long before it became a suburban homemaker staple. She could recall watching her mom decorating the pages with cutouts or drawings she made. Dana remembered how she carefully placed each photo so it was given the right prominence.
When their father
returned from duty the books would come out and each child got to tell the stories behind the pictures. One of her most treasured memories was telling her beloved Ahab about the picture of her holding her letter
regarding her acceptance to medical school. Until that moment the only one she’d
told was her mom. Dana smiled remembering her mom’s old Polaroid camera
she used to commemorate the event.
up from the old rocking chair and dusted herself off. Even this old chair held
untouchable memories of a mother with her babies. Her father was just out of
the academy and was two days away from shipping out when they found out they were going to have their first child. The military was a noble calling but the pay isn’t the greatest.
Maggie scoured second hand shops and yard sales to put together the fundamentals needed for a baby. When she had a crib, a small dresser and a rocker she lovingly painted them and applied appliqués of Beatrix
The crib and
dresser were long gone. The dresser literally fell apart when Charlie used it
as a launching pad to attack Bill. The crib was dumped when, in the seventies
the government warned of the hazards of old cribs because the side rails were too far spread apart. By then is had been ineffective since that crib had long since been retired from bedding four Scully children.
around there really wasn’t all that much. Being a Navy wife quelled any
packrat tendencies her mom might have harbored. The less there was the less they
packed. Maggie Scully thought these things were important enough to drag them
to Navy bases around the world and that was what made these things all the more precious.
addressed her recently departed mom. ‘Mom, I’ll keep your treasures
safe. Thank you for teaching me the importance of remembrances.’
Mulder called to her from the attic stairs. “I put William down for a nap
the funeral was a bit tough on the little guy. It’s hard enough to understand
death as an adult; I can only imagine how it feels for a six year old.” He
walked over to her and pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. Then
he sat in the old rocker and pulled her into his lap. “Tell me,”
was all he said.
into his embrace then pointed to the sea chest. “That chest over there…”
she began to tell him of a well loved life.