Cardboard boxes of old holiday decorations and stack after stack of dusty choir music sat under the low roof rafters.

In the far corner, tucked under a heavy canvas drop cloth, sat my old Navy sea bag and my olive green steel military chest.

I knelt beside the chest, my right knee popping softly in the quiet room, and turned the brass dial of the lock to the combination I had memorized fifteen years ago.

The heavy steel lid opened with a dull scrape, releasing the sharp, familiar smell of gun oil, wool, and brass polish.

My SEAL service medals sat in a dark velvet box on top of my folded field jacket.