At dusk before the blue moon of August 2012, Brioni calls me outside to appreciate the sky. “Look at all the colours!” she exclaims, and I am held in wonder at the display.

Beautiful sunset, August 2012
We all trek out the back to marvel at the range of hues.

Later, the blue moon rises, and once again I remember the celebration at last November’s full moon at the Rainbow Gathering. The moon phases are meaningful to me now, but in a melancholic way. Elijah was born at the New Moon and died seven moons later.

Telescope on Mt Coot-tha, August 2012
Earlier this week, the girls had the opportunity to look at the moon through a telescope from the top of Mount Coot-tha.

Blue moon, August 2012
The second full moon in a month is called a "blue moon", and we won't see another one for three more years.

Time is passing so slowly for me. Two months have seemed like tortuous eons, and I can hardly imagine what the next three years will feel like.

I am still waiting — waiting to be free, waiting to hit the road again, waiting to create a new life with our girls, waiting for hope to materialise into being and faith into substance. Meanwhile, I’ve got another long night to endure. At the least the moon is shining on me tonight.