August 27th, 2018
Los Angeles, CaliforniaBrandon Jackson
"I own all the rights to all my raps nigga!" I shouted, bopping my head to Nips song Rap niggas as it blasted through my speakers.
My little sister, Ryan reached over and turned the radio down. I snapped my neck towards her.
A/N: Ryan Jackson
"Don't touch my radio, Ry." I turned the music back up.
"People are looking at us." She sunk down further in her seat.
I looked around, people were staring at us. Oh well.
"Open trust accounts, deposit racks nigga!" I rapped in her face.
She laughed and pushed me.
"C'mon Ry, you love Nipsey." I switched lanes.
She shrugged. "Just not in the mood, you know?"
I nodded. It was Sunday and she hated Sundays. But I could see why, we hated seeing our momma looking the way she did.
"Moms gon' be straight Ry, stop thinking so negative. You know she strong."
She nodded. "It's just hard, I don't want to see her like that."
It was hard.
When I was 21 my mom was diagnosed with cancer and with Ryan being only 10 at the time, she watched as she got older how weak and sick our momma got.
She was constantly in the hospital for almost 8 years and every time it was the same thing. The cancer would leave, and then come back. This time, it was dangerous and we didn't know how long we had with her this time.
When Ryan was 15, I moved my momma into a home where she would have nurses and doctors on call if she needed it. And ever since then, Ry's been with me.
"I know, but she's gon be good."
The rest of the ride was quiet besides the sound of Nipsey playing in my car. When we pulled up to the home, we both got out and I grabbed the flowers and her favorite box of chocolates.
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