I sit back in the white porch swing deeply inhaling as fresh rain starts to fall and rejuvenate the thirsty earth. I feel complacent when my eyes are closed. I'll pretend that the invisble bodies of the voices I hear are right there with me, enjoying tea in the garden. I don't mention that there is something secret buried underneath the tree around which we sit. Then I hear his voice and remember that I am not alone and never will be. I sigh before standing up and making my way back into the lush house, stopping in the doorway to look back across the street as the ground soaks up the moisture. Sometimes love isn't enough.