𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮 𝗠𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 ━━━━━ 𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗮𝗰 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿.

062.

' FRI , JUNE 12TH 1996. '
zahir's first birthday party ⸻
calabasas , california !

     THE SUN SETS HIGH IN THE SKY , casting its warm rays over the backyard, making the whole scene glow with a golden hue. It's the kind of day that's perfect for a party—clear blue skies with just a few fluffy clouds drifting lazily overhead, and the kind of heat that makes the air shimmer slightly. Thankfully, there's a light breeze that carries the scent of barbecue and the sound of laughter throughout the space, making the heat more bearable.

The backyard is a picture of festive joy. It's decked out with basketball-themed decorations, from orange and black streamers to inflatable basketballs that float lazily in the pool. The central focus is a large banner that hangs over the patio, proudly proclaiming, "Happy 1st Birthday, Zahir!" The tables are covered in matching tablecloths, and each one holds centerpieces featuring mini basketball hoops with orange balloons attached to them. The sound of upbeat music fills the air, adding an extra layer of energy to the already lively atmosphere.

Kids are running around, dribbling basketballs and laughing, while the adults chat in clusters, some wearing jerseys of their favorite teams. The barbecue is in full swing, with grills loaded up with everything from ribs and burgers to corn on the cob. The aroma is mouthwatering, and I can see people already lining up to get their plates.

I'm holding Zahir, and his tiny jersey—complete with the number "1" on the back—makes him look even more adorable. He's gripping a small basketball toy in his chubby hands, his big brown eyes taking in everything around him with pure wonder. I smile down at him, feeling a swell of love and pride. It's his first birthday, and I want to make sure it's perfect.

I'm wearing a matching set with him, a jersey that reads MOM on that back with my favorite number 7, paired with some baggy jeans, sneakers and some locs that instead of resting over my eyes, rest atop of my head.

As I walk around the yard, greeting guests and making sure everything is running smoothly, I spot a familiar face making her way through the crowd. Sekyiwa, Tupac's sister, is approaching with a baby in her arms—a little girl with chubby cheeks and big curious eyes. Sekyiwa is wearing a white sundress and a Lakers jersey over it, her braids tied back in a casual bun. She looks happy and relaxed, her smile widening as she sees me even though it's the first time we met.

I'm making my way through the yard, ensuring that everything is running smoothly, and Zahir is the star of the day. His tiny jersey with "Zahir 1" on the back fits him perfectly, making him look like the cutest little basketball fan in the world. He's clutching his small basketball toy, eyes wide with wonder as he takes in all the sights, sounds, and faces surrounding him. I can't help but feel a swell of pride and love as I watch him. It's his first birthday, and I'm determined to make sure every moment is perfect for him.

As I continue to greet guests and keep an eye on the festivities, I notice a familiar face making her way through the crowd. It's Sekyiwa, Tupac's sister, and she's carrying a baby in her arms—a beautiful little girl with chubby cheeks and big, curious eyes that seem to take in everything around her.

Sekyiwa is wearing a white sundress with a Lakers jersey over it, her braids tied back in a casual bun. She looks happy and relaxed, and her smile widens as she spots me, though I realize this is the first time we're meeting in person.