The pool table.

The blue carpet seemed like an ocean dividing the kids from our dads, moms, and grandma. We were gathered around the pool table, which seems to dominate the room. Taking up at least half of the basement. The turquoise covering had some wear and tear from before I can remember. But to my eight year old self it still appears new. The wood is stained a medium brown, shiny, and deep, almost as if you could see the end of the universe if you looked hard enough. (I tried a few times) The surface appeared smooth, until you leaned level with it to line up your shot, or attempt to in my case, when you would notice the many pits, bumps and dents in both the wood and the turquoise cover. The pool balls were dulling, and had marks from one too many games, or maybe the many times we invented our own games, and misused them. The ball pockets were woven brown leather, and two of them, the left top corner and one of the side pockets, had holes big enough that if you didn't shoot right the balls would fall out. The whole thing stood on two huge sturdy legs made of the same wood as the top.