Pictures.

Pictures decorate my room. They line every wall, every shelf, every desk. Each and every one tells a story. They are all portals in time, containing the ability to draw you back into the past, even if only in memories.

These pictures describe my life. Every single one is important, no matter how trivial or routine they were when taken. They remind me of what it was to be alive.

Familiar faces gaze up at me: crewmates, family, friends. Some of which are no longer alive. My best friend, Jonathon Archer, smiles at me from a picture I once took. His dog, Porthos, sits happily beside him, munching on a piece of cheese I threw him. Jon wasn't too happy about that, but he got over it quickly.

Malcolm, Hoshi, Travis, T'Pol, Phlox. They're all there. Bright faces, unlined by the cares and wear of time. We were all so young then. Eager, happy. Our whole lives were ahead of us, and we were making history with every lightyear, as Jon always said.

My family was there too. My wife, my daughter. All three of us together, smiling as an anonymous photographer took our picture. My arms around them, standing in the middle. Both are beautiful, filling my heart with love for only them.

All these beautiful pictures comfort me in my old age. They are reminders of a life well spent, full of vitality and joy. I live alone now, as my daughter has her own family now and my wife has passed on. Most of friends are gone now, on to their castles in the sky. All I have left are my pictures.

Those relics of time soothe my soul, and prepare me for the journey beyond.