Malta

As Rick sits next to me tapping out his review of 2014, Maltese memories forced me out of bed to bring  the computer back and free write this blog.

For J and me it was more than a few-days getaway.

We'd been unwilling warriors in a losing war where each of us knew those we loved would not survive.

Over a much-too long period there was the emotional support each gave the other as we faced our own battles with loss, and theirs that no general could change the outcome. Some wars are meant to be lost, and we knew the hopelessness.

We promised at the end, when things were as normal as they would ever be without those people in our lives, that we would give ourselves a reward.

It was a trip to Malta, a place neither of us had been. The choice made sense to us.

The trip, despite an unexpected overnight in Rome, was truly a healing experience, because of unexpected scenery that almost overwhelmed J and for me being swamped by the power of friendship that carries honesty and understanding.

It is those friendships that are not just the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but the colours of the rainbow leading us through whatever storms we face on or off the battlefields of life.

Photo: a sculpture at the Malta airport.