The men of the family and their tools joined together to construct my large, log body on a steep, country hill. I have their building days captured in time in a frame mantled on my east wall. Ever since my birth, the family travels up here from all over the state of Wisconsin for the jolly Christmas holiday. The children's hand-crafted ornaments hang on the fake branches of the year-round Christmas tree in the corner of my space. This is where all the red and green wrapped gifts of different sizes of joy flood the room; or where Santa left his mark. This is where wide smiles, warm hugs, and genuine kisses take place. This is where family ties are reconnected in strength and love. At my dinner table is where hundreds and hundreds of card games occurred. It's scuffed up with battle wounds left by both winners and losers; spilt drink after spilt drink. Whether it was war, 7-up, sheepshead, crazy eight, hearts, go fish, BS, or double deck euchre, this is where it all went down; separating the champs from the rest of the crowd. My shaky, old deck hosted countless late nights spent in plastic lawn chairs, gazing up at the millions of stars in the sky and pondering the meaning of life. My warm recliner is grandpa's signature seat, where he rocked his country days away in a room full of the people he loved the most, living without regrets. I am where the greatest, irreplaceable memories between beloved grandchildren, kids, siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, parents, friends, aunts, uncles, and grandparents have been created. But most importantly, I am the place where everyone can be the most honest version of themselves; a safe haven for this family.