purple
Lucas badly sprained his ankle on Tuesday, when he fell on someone else's foot while playing basketball. He arrived home with what looked like a golf ball awkwardly tucked into his sock. That golf ball of a swell has since disappeared, but the swelling has become more generalized, giving him a foot that resembles that of a wooden statue -- enlarged, boxy and discoloured. Parts of his foot and ankle have progressively acquired a lovely cyan-purple hue; the sadistic photographer in me wakes up every morning, secretly hoping the blueness has deepened, just because I think it looks quite incredible and want to keep photographing it. The sports medicine doctor with the spiky hair and frigid bedside manner tells Lucas that it'll be at least three weeks before he can really engage in any physical activity. It's quite the blow to someone who tries to be active most days of the week. My mother, upon hearing about Lucas' injury, exclaimed, "how is he supposed to take you to the hospital?!" It's a statment that conjures up amusing visions of Lucas -- perfectly healthy or otherwise -- carrying me in his arms or toting me on his back (either piggy-back or fireman style) to the hospital. Collectively, we make quite the pair walking down the street; he's slow because he's limping and I'm slow because I'm waddling with the extra weight in front. To the people walking behind us, we must be rather annoying pedestrians. But we won't remain obnoxious pedestrians, individually or collectively, for very long. After all, his foot has to heal and Raspberry has to emerge soon.