When I was five, I talked my parents into getting me my very own pony. His name was Tympani and he was just a foal when he first became mine. He was a sweet little thing who used to follow me everywhere I went, nibbling at my hair and nudging me with his head whenever he thought he deserved an apple. We even took naps together; drowsing in the sun after our explorations left us too tired to continue. He was my best friend and I loved him.
One morning, Tympani was not in his usual spot waiting for me. Thinking that he might have wandered off, I called his name but he didn't come running with that funky gait of his. Worried that something might be amiss, I went looking for him. I found him in a nearby field, stretched out on his side, his flanks heaving spasmodically. When he saw me approaching, he tried to lift his head in greeting but the effort was obviously too much for him and he could only blink at me soulfully as I gently stroked his face. Even though I was only seven at the time, it was obvious that Tympani was very sick.
Over the next few days, I spent every possible moment with Tympani. I nursed him the way my mom would nurse Lila and me whenever we were sick. I was determined to make him better. In the beginning, he refused to eat anything and I could hardly get him to drink but he gradually improved. By the end of the week, he was eating again and he could stand, albeit a little shakily. With a little tender loving care, I was sure Tympani would make a full recovery. Alas, it wasn't to be. That's just what happens with the things that you love. Sometimes, they just leave you.
It's a tough lesson to learn when you are little more than a child but that's the reality of life. Pets die, people die. It doesn't matter how much you love them. They will leave you one day. It is inevitable. What should we do then? Should we shun love altogether so as to be spared further heartache and pain? What kind of life would that be? Never loving anyone or being loved. Isn't that a fate worse than death itself? I think I would rather deal with the heartache when it comes than have to live my life without knowing love.
To me, the similarities between Tympani and Xena are self-evident. Like Tympani, Xena is my best friend. And right now, she is probably the only true friend I have. I love her. And like Tympani, she became very sick one day and she died. And just like it had with Tympani, her death caught me completely by surprise. I shouldn't have been. I knew Xena was dying. All the signs were there. It was after all the first time I had seen Xena so weak and so—dare I say it—mortal.
This might seem strange but I have never truly considered the possibility that Xena might actually die someday. I mean, we all die and given the life we lead, the dangers we face and the risks we take every day, it would be impossibly naïve to believe we would ever live to be a ripe old age. No, it is more likely that we would find death waiting for us at the end of a sword. But if you have ever met Xena, even in passing, you know there's just something about her, a kind of aura if you will, that sets her apart from the rest of us mere mortals. Hercules is the same. Then again, he is the son of Zeus. And Xena is, well, Xena.
I have seen her shrug off grievous injuries as if they were nothing more painful or debilitating than a needle prick. I have also watched her achieve the impossible, time and again, prevailing against seemingly insurmountable odds to triumph in her fight against evil. Xena doesn't lose. And she certainly doesn't die; unless, of course, it is all part of her plan.
But was it all part of the plan? I can't be sure. I know Xena likes to plan for all possible contingencies but I doubt she was expecting to be hit by a dart, much less one coated with Talmic poison. I'm still angry with her though, for not telling me about that. It could have gotten her killed. And it did, didn't it? I know she didn't want to worry me unnecessarily but I can't take care of her if she persists in keeping secrets from me. We are supposed to be a team and she is my responsibility as much as I am hers.
Sometimes, we take for granted the things and the people we love the most. I don't want to do that any longer. When I thought Xena was dead and never coming back, I had so many regrets. But more than my regrets, I realise that I am lost without her. Where do I go? What do I do? Once, I might have had an answer to those questions. Now, I don't. Xena has become so important in my life that I'm not sure I know how to go on without her. And that scares me, more than anything else. I hope I never have to find out. But for now, I'm going to keep a closer eye on her. Someone out there obviously wants her dead and I plan on doing everything I can to make sure they don't succeed.