And something inside me changed.<\/p>\n
Not loudly.<\/p>\n
Not dramatically.<\/p>\n
It simply stopped bending.<\/p>\n
\n<\/div>\n
For six days, Evan had talked about Harbor Falls Water Park like we were preparing for a trip to another country.<\/p>\n
“Do you think I’m tall enough for the Cyclone Drop?”<\/p>\n
“Probably.”<\/p>\n
“What if I’m exactly one inch too short?”<\/p>\n
“Then you grow very fast in the parking lot.”<\/p>\n
He had laughed so hard he’d nearly spilled his cereal.<\/p>\n
My older sister had invited him the previous Sunday at Mom’s house.<\/p>\n
“Of course you’re coming,” Lauren had told him. “We’ll pick you up Saturday morning.”<\/p>\n
Everyone heard her.<\/p>\n
Especially Evan.<\/p>\n
By Friday night, his backpack was packed by the front door.<\/p>\n
Towel.<\/p>\n
Dry shirt.<\/p>\n
Water shoes.<\/p>\n
Sunscreen.<\/p>\n
A waterproof pouch.<\/p>\n
Twenty dollars from the little blue envelope where he’d been saving allowance money.<\/p>\n
Saturday morning, he came into the kitchen wearing navy swim trunks, rubber sandals, and a bright green T-shirt with a shark across the front.<\/p>\n
He’d put so much sunscreen on his nose that he looked dusted with flour.<\/p>\n
“Ready?” I asked.<\/p>\n
“I’ve been ready since six.”<\/p>\n
It was 6:12.<\/p>\n
He barely ate breakfast.<\/p>\n
By eight, we were waiting at my mother’s house.<\/p>\n
Every passing engine made him peek through the blinds.<\/p>\n
Then Lauren’s van turned into the driveway.<\/p>\n
“They’re here!”<\/p>\n
He grabbed his backpack and ran outside.<\/p>\n
Lauren’s minivan had eight seats.<\/p>\n
Lauren was driving.<\/p>\n
Mom took the passenger seat.<\/p>\n
Chloe and Ben sat in the middle row.<\/p>\n
Noah sat alone in the back.<\/p>\n
Three empty seats remained.<\/p>\n
Evan pointed happily.<\/p>\n
“I’ll sit with Noah.”<\/p>\n
Lauren got out and opened the hatch.<\/p>\n
There were towels, one small cooler, a folding chair, two tote bags and a half-inflated crocodile float.<\/p>\n
“Aunt Lauren, want me to put my backpack back there?”<\/p>\n
She didn’t look at him.<\/p>\n
“Actually, honey, you can’t ride with us. There’s no room.”<\/p>\n
I thought I had misheard her.<\/p>\n
Evan stopped bouncing.<\/p>\n
“What?”<\/p>\n
Lauren straightened.<\/p>\n
“No room.”<\/p>\n
I looked through the side door.<\/p>\n
Then at her.<\/p>\n
“Lauren, there are three empty seats.”<\/p>\n
“We need space for our stuff.”<\/p>\n
“What stuff?”<\/p>\n
She gestured vaguely toward the trunk.<\/p>\n
“The cooler. Towels. Bags.”<\/p>\n
“The inflatable crocodile gets a seat?”<\/p>\n
Her mouth tightened.<\/p>\n
“Why do you always have to turn everything into an argument?”<\/p>\n
“Because you invited my son.”<\/p>\n
“I said he could come. I didn’t promise transportation.”<\/p>\n
My jaw went slack.<\/p>\n
From the back seat, Chloe spoke up.<\/p>\n
“Mom, he can sit beside me.”<\/p>\n
Lauren turned sharply.<\/p>\n
“Chloe, buckle your seat belt.”<\/p>\n
Evan looked at me.<\/p>\n
That was the moment.<\/p>\n
The understanding arrived quietly in his eyes.<\/p>\n
Not confusion.<\/p>\n
Not anger.<\/p>\n
Recognition.<\/p>\n
He understood that his cousins were going somewhere he’d been promised he could go.<\/p>\n
He understood that there was room.<\/p>\n
And he understood that the adults were pretending there wasn’t.<\/p>\n
My mother came outside.<\/p>\n
“What’s happening?”<\/p>\n
“Lauren says Evan can’t ride.”![\"\"](\"https:\/\/blog.igallery.blog\/assets\/a262a3bb7d2122e5489561fab836832a\/2026\/0930\/56cf3c3b-739f-4bc1-bb00-758bdef2b5c8-123.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
Mom looked inside the minivan.<\/p>\n
Her eyes traveled slowly over every empty seat.<\/p>\n
I watched her expression.<\/p>\n
For one hopeful second, I thought she was going to defend him.<\/p>\n
Instead she sighed.<\/p>\n
“Oh, sweetheart. Maybe next time.”<\/p>\n
“Mom.”<\/p>\n
“What?”<\/p>\n
“He’s been talking about this for a week.”<\/p>\n
She lowered her voice.<\/p>\n
“Natalie, don’t make a scene.”<\/p>\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n
My son was being deliberately excluded, and somehow my reaction was the embarrassing part.<\/strong><\/p>\n Lauren slid behind the wheel.<\/p>\n Mom got in beside her.<\/p>\n The doors closed.<\/p>\n And they drove away.<\/p>\n For several seconds, the driveway was completely still.<\/p>\n A lawn mower buzzed somewhere down the street.<\/p>\n Wind moved through the maple trees.<\/p>\n Evan stared after the van.<\/p>\n Then he said, “I don’t really like water parks that much anyway.”<\/p>\n That broke me.<\/p>\n Because two hours earlier he had asked whether the Cyclone Drop had three loops or four.<\/p>\n I crouched in front of him.<\/p>\n “Hey.”<\/p>\n He wouldn’t meet my eyes.<\/p>\n “Look at me.”<\/p>\n He did.<\/p>\n “Do you still want to go?”<\/p>\n His chin trembled almost invisibly.<\/p>\n “Yeah.”<\/p>\n “Then we’re going.”<\/p>\n His eyes widened.<\/p>\n “Just us?”<\/p>\n “Just us.”<\/p>\n “But Aunt Lauren already\u2014”<\/p>\n “I know.”<\/p>\n “What about Grandma?”<\/p>\n I opened the passenger door of my Honda.<\/p>\n “What about her?”<\/p>\n He smiled.<\/p>\n This time it reached his eyes.<\/p>\n We were halfway to Harbor Falls when my phone buzzed in the cup holder.<\/p>\n A fuel-card notification.<\/p>\n CARD ENDING 4418 \u2014 ACCOUNT ACTIVITY AVAILABLE.<\/strong><\/p>\n My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n For almost two years, I’d been paying Lauren’s gasoline expenses.<\/p>\n It had started after her husband, Mark, lost construction work during a slow winter.<\/p>\n Lauren called me crying because she didn’t know how she’d drive the kids to school.<\/p>\n “Just for a month,” she’d said.<\/p>\n That month became twenty-three.<\/p>\n Every thirty days, roughly six hundred dollars left my account.<\/p>\n Sometimes more.<\/p>\n Whenever I hesitated, Mom would say the same thing.<\/p>\n “It’s for the children.”<\/p>\n So I paid.<\/p>\n I’d also covered Lauren’s electricity twice.<\/p>\n Bought Ben’s soccer cleats.<\/p>\n Paid half of Chloe’s summer-camp fee.<\/p>\n Replaced one tire on the minivan.<\/p>\n Then another.<\/p>\n Once, Lauren spent fifty-two dollars on a wooden dining-room sign that said BLESSED, then called me two days later because her electric bill was overdue.<\/p>\n I sent her seventy-five dollars.<\/p>\n The sign remained on her wall.<\/p>\n My bitterness used to embarrass me.<\/p>\n That morning, it didn’t.<\/p>\n I looked at Evan beside me, watching fields blur past the window.<\/p>\n Then I looked at the fuel notification again.<\/p>\n Not yet, I thought.<\/p>\n First, my son gets his day.<\/p>\n At Harbor Falls, the regular ticket line wrapped around metal barriers under the blistering Ohio sun.<\/p>\n Evan stopped walking.<\/p>\n “Mom, that’s a huge line.”<\/p>\n “I noticed.”<\/p>\n He tried to sound cheerful.<\/p>\n “We can wait.”<\/p>\n I looked toward the entrance.<\/p>\n A blue banner hung above a separate doorway.<\/p>\n VIP EXPERIENCE.<\/p>\n My checking account was healthy, but I wasn’t a woman who casually spent hundreds of dollars on entertainment.<\/p>\n I clipped coupons.<\/p>\n Bought store-brand cereal.<\/p>\n Waited for shoes to go on sale.<\/p>\n The price for two VIP passes made my stomach twist.<\/p>\n Four hundred fifty dollars.<\/p>\n Then I remembered Evan waving goodbye to the people who had left him in a driveway.<\/p>\n I handed over my card.<\/p>\n “Two.”<\/p>\n The attendant smiled.<\/p>\n “Enjoy your day.”<\/p>\n Evan stared at the wristbands.<\/p>\n “Mom\u2026 are these the ones where you skip the lines?”<\/p>\n “Looks that way.”<\/p>\n “All the lines?”<\/p>\n “Every single one.”<\/p>\n He threw both arms around my waist.<\/p>\n And suddenly the money felt very small.<\/p>\n We rode the Cyclone Drop three times.<\/p>\n The first time Evan screamed.<\/p>\n The second time he laughed.<\/p>\n The third time he raised both hands in the air and shouted, “I’M NOT SCARED ANYMORE!”<\/p>\n I laughed so hard tears came into my eyes.<\/p>\n We ate nachos under our private cabana.<\/p>\n We floated down the lazy river.<\/p>\n Evan convinced me to ride something called the Thunder Funnel, which was essentially a colorful plastic throat designed to terrify middle-aged mothers.<\/p>\n At noon he stood beneath a giant tipping bucket, water exploding over his head, and looked happier than I’d seen him in months.<\/p>\n I took a picture.<\/p>\n My phone immediately buzzed.<\/p>\n Lauren.<\/p>\n Where are you? Mom said you left.<\/strong><\/p>\n I sent her the photo.<\/p>\n Three dots appeared.<\/p>\n Then:<\/p>\n YOU’RE AT HARBOR FALLS??<\/strong><\/p>\n Another message.<\/p>\n Why didn’t you tell us? The kids would’ve loved those VIP passes!<\/strong><\/p>\n I stared at the screen.<\/p>\n Not:<\/p>\n I’m sorry about Evan.<\/p>\n Not:<\/p>\n I shouldn’t have left him.<\/p>\n Not even:<\/p>\n Is he okay?<\/p>\n Her first reaction was that her children had missed access to something better.<\/p>\n Something expensive.<\/p>\n Something I had paid for.<\/p>\n I sat beneath the cabana listening to water crash against concrete.<\/p>\n Then I opened my banking app.<\/p>\n Found the fuel account.<\/p>\n My finger hovered over the cancellation button.<\/p>\n For years I’d confused love with rescue.<\/p>\n If Lauren was short, I covered it.<\/p>\n If Mom needed something, I arranged it.<\/p>\n If family peace required someone to swallow the insult, I swallowed.<\/p>\n Maybe they had started believing that was simply my role.<\/p>\n Useful Natalie.<\/p>\n Reliable Natalie.<\/p>\n The sister whose money counted even when her feelings didn’t.<\/p>\n The aunt whose help belonged to everyone.<\/p>\n The mother whose child could be left behind without consequences.<\/p>\n I pressed CANCEL CARD.<\/strong><\/p>\n A warning appeared.<\/p>\n THIS ACTION CANNOT BE REVERSED.<\/p>\n Confirm?<\/p>\n I pressed it.<\/p>\n Then I put my phone facedown and joined my son in the wave pool.<\/p>\n Three hours later, Lauren called.<\/p>\n I ignored it.<\/p>\n Mom called.<\/p>\n Ignored that too.<\/p>\n Lauren again.<\/p>\n Then a text arrived.<\/p>\n NATALIE! I’M AT THE GAS STATION! MY TANK IS EMPTY AND THE CARD KEEPS GETTING DECLINED! WHAT DID YOU DO?!<\/strong><\/p>\n I stared at the capital letters.<\/p>\n Evan sat across from me eating vanilla ice cream with blue sprinkles.<\/p>\n “Everything okay?” he asked.<\/p>\n “Perfect.”<\/p>\n I typed:<\/p>\n Ask your three empty seats.<\/strong><\/p>\n The phone rang instantly.<\/p>\n Mom.<\/p>\n This time I answered.<\/p>\n “Natalie!”<\/p>\n No hello.<\/p>\n “What did you do to Lauren’s gas card?”<\/p>\n “I canceled it.”<\/p>\n “You can’t just cancel someone’s gas card!”<\/p>\n “My name is on the account.”<\/p>\n “She has the children with her!”<\/p>\n “So did I this morning.”<\/p>\n Mom went silent.<\/p>\n Only briefly.<\/p>\n Then her voice hardened.<\/p>\n “This is childish.”<\/p>\n I almost admired the certainty.<\/p>\n “Leaving Evan behind wasn’t?”<\/p>\n “That was different.”<\/p>\n “Explain how.”<\/p>\n “Lauren had her reasons.”<\/p>\n “Three empty seats.”<\/p>\n “She said the van was crowded.”<\/p>\n “Three. Empty. Seats.”<\/p>\n “Natalie, families don’t punish each other financially over hurt feelings.”<\/p>\n Something inside me went cold.<\/p>\n “This isn’t punishment. I’m simply no longer paying for a vehicle that apparently has no room for my son.”<\/p>\n She inhaled sharply.<\/p>\n Then she said the words that made my blood run cold.<\/p>\n “After everything Lauren has been through, you should be more understanding.”<\/strong><\/p>\n I stood.<\/p>\n “What exactly has Lauren been through?”<\/p>\n Silence.<\/p>\n “Mom?”<\/p>\n In the background, I heard Lauren say something.<\/p>\n Then Mom whispered, “I shouldn’t have said that.”<\/p>\n My pulse began hammering.<\/p>\n “Say what?”<\/p>\n “It’s not my story to tell.”<\/p>\n I had heard that sentence before.<\/p>\n Years earlier.<\/p>\n The night my father left our house carrying two suitcases.<\/p>\n It’s not my story to tell.<\/p>\n Three months later, we’d learned he’d been having an affair.<\/p>\n I gripped the phone.<\/p>\n “Mom. What don’t I know?”<\/p>\n Another long silence.<\/p>\n Finally she said, “Come to my house tomorrow.”<\/p>\n “No.”<\/p>\n “Natalie\u2014”<\/p>\n “Tell me now.”<\/p>\n Lauren grabbed the phone.<\/p>\n Her breathing was ragged.<\/p>\n “You want the truth? Fine.”<\/p>\n “Lauren.”<\/p>\n “You’ve always thought you’re better than me.”<\/p>\n “This is about Evan.”<\/p>\n “No, it’s about everything!”<\/p>\n Her voice cracked.<\/p>\n “You get to be responsible. You get to be stable. Mom calls you when something goes wrong. Everyone trusts you. And I get to be the disaster.”<\/p>\n “I never called you that.”<\/p>\n “You didn’t have to.”<\/p>\n “Then why punish my son?”<\/p>\n Silence.<\/p>\n When she answered, her voice was quieter.<\/p>\n “Because I was angry at you.”<\/p>\n The sentence hit harder than I expected.<\/p>\n “You excluded a nine-year-old because you were angry at me?”<\/p>\n “I didn’t plan it like that.”<\/p>\n “You invited him.”<\/p>\n “I know.”<\/p>\n “He packed his backpack six days early.”<\/p>\n “I know.”<\/p>\n “He stood there while you drove away.”<\/p>\n “I know!”<\/p>\n She was crying now.<\/p>\n I didn’t care.<\/p>\n Not yet.<\/p>\n “Why were you angry?”<\/p>\n Another silence.<\/p>\n Then she said:<\/p>\n “Because Mom told me you were going to stop helping.”<\/p>\n I frowned.<\/p>\n “What?”<\/p>\n “She said you were tired of paying for everything. She said you’d been talking about cutting us off.”<\/p>\n “I never said that.”<\/p>\n Lauren stopped breathing for a second.<\/p>\n “What?”<\/p>\n “I never told Mom that.”<\/p>\n Now it was my turn to hear silence.<\/p>\n Lauren whispered, “She said you did.”<\/p>\n The next morning, I went to Mom’s house alone.<\/p>\n Evan stayed with his best friend’s family.<\/p>\n Lauren was already there.<\/p>\n She sat at the kitchen table with swollen eyes.<\/p>\n Mom stood by the sink, arms folded.<\/p>\n I didn’t remove my coat.<\/p>\n “Tell me.”<\/p>\n Mom looked older than she had twenty-four hours earlier.<\/p>\n “I was trying to keep the family together.”<\/p>\n Lauren laughed bitterly.<\/p>\n “By lying to both of us?”<\/p>\n My mother flinched.<\/p>\n Then the truth came out.<\/p>\n Slowly.<\/p>\n Ugly piece by ugly piece.<\/p>\n For more than a year, Mom had been telling Lauren that I resented supporting her.<\/p>\n At the same time, she had been telling me Lauren was struggling far worse than she admitted and desperately needed my help.<\/p>\n Whenever Lauren asked why I rarely visited, Mom said I was judging her spending.<\/p>\n Whenever I asked why Lauren seemed cold, Mom said she was embarrassed about accepting money.<\/p>\n She had created two versions of us.<\/p>\n One sister bitter.<\/p>\n One sister ungrateful.<\/p>\n Both dependent on Mom as translator.<\/p>\n “Why?” I asked.<\/p>\n Mom’s eyes filled.<\/p>\n “Because you two stopped needing me.”<\/p>\n I stared at her.<\/p>\n She sat down slowly.<\/p>\n “After your father died, you both built your own lives. Lauren had Mark. You had Evan. Nobody called me first anymore.”<\/p>\n Lauren whispered, “So you made us hate each other?”<\/p>\n “No!”<\/p>\n Mom’s voice broke.<\/p>\n “I just\u2026 sometimes repeated things differently. I thought if there was tension, you’d both come to me.”<\/p>\n The room went still.<\/p>\n Then Lauren put both hands over her face.<\/p>\n And suddenly I remembered dozens of conversations.<\/p>\n Mom telling me Lauren had said I acted superior.<\/p>\n Mom telling Lauren I’d criticized her parenting.<\/p>\n Mom insisting she was “staying out of it” while delivering every alleged insult.<\/p>\n The water park wasn’t the beginning.<\/strong><\/p>\n It was the explosion at the end of a fuse someone else had spent years lighting.<\/p>\n That didn’t excuse Lauren.<\/p>\n Nothing could.<\/p>\n And she knew it.<\/p>\n She looked at me.<\/p>\n “I wanted to hurt you yesterday.”<\/p>\n I felt my jaw tighten.<\/p>\n “So you hurt Evan.”<\/p>\n “Yes.”<\/p>\n No excuses.<\/p>\n No softening.<\/p>\n Just yes.<\/p>\n Her eyes flooded.<\/p>\n “And the second we pulled out of that driveway, Chloe started crying. She kept asking why Evan couldn’t come. Noah said there was room beside him. I knew I’d done something disgusting.”<\/p>\n “Then why didn’t you turn around?”<\/p>\n Lauren looked down.<\/p>\n “Because I was too proud.”<\/p>\n There it was.<\/p>\n Not a misunderstanding.<\/p>\n Not manipulation alone.<\/p>\n Choice.<\/p>\n “I won’t forget that,” I said.<\/p>\n “I know.”<\/p>\n “And Evan may not either.”<\/p>\n “I know.”<\/p>\n She reached into her purse.<\/p>\n For one second I thought she might pull out money for the gas card.<\/p>\n Instead she placed something on the table.<\/p>\n A folded piece of paper.<\/p>\n It was a handwritten letter addressed to Evan.<\/p>\n No excuses.<\/p>\n No mention of me.<\/p>\n Just an aunt telling a nine-year-old boy that she’d been wrong, that adults sometimes make selfish choices, and that he had done nothing to deserve being left behind.<\/p>\n At the bottom she’d written:<\/p>\n You don’t have to forgive me quickly just because I’m family.<\/strong><\/p>\n That sentence softened something.<\/p>\n Not enough for forgiveness.<\/p>\n But enough for possibility.<\/p>\n I never reactivated the fuel card.<\/p>\n Lauren didn’t ask.<\/p>\n Mark picked up extra weekend work.<\/p>\n They sold the decorative BLESSED sign at a yard sale.<\/p>\n I bought it for five dollars without telling her and stored it in my closet because someday, when we were both old and ridiculous, I intended to give it back.<\/p>\n Mom had a harder road.<\/p>\n Trust doesn’t grow back simply because someone says sorry.<\/p>\n We stopped using her as the bridge between us.<\/p>\n If Lauren had something to tell me, she called me.<\/p>\n If I had a problem with Lauren, I told Lauren.<\/p>\n No messengers.<\/p>\n No translated emotions.<\/p>\n No family diplomacy performed by someone who needed conflict in order to feel important.<\/p>\n Months passed.<\/p>\n Then spring came.<\/p>\n One Saturday morning, someone knocked on our apartment door.<\/p>\n Evan opened it.<\/p>\n Lauren stood outside with Chloe, Ben and Noah.<\/p>\n She held no giant apology gift.<\/p>\n No expensive peace offering.<\/p>\n Just four tickets to a minor-league baseball game and a cardboard sign Chloe had made.<\/p>\n It read:<\/p>\n EVAN GETS FIRST PICK OF THE SEATS.<\/p>\n My son stared at it.<\/p>\n Lauren swallowed.<\/p>\n “I checked. There are definitely enough.”<\/p>\n For a second, nobody moved.<\/p>\n Then Evan smiled.<\/p>\n Not that painful little smile from the driveway.<\/p>\n A real one.<\/p>\n “Can I sit next to Noah?”<\/p>\n Noah shouted, “YES!”<\/p>\n Lauren looked at me.<\/p>\n I gave the smallest nod.<\/p>\n Not forgiveness.<\/p>\n Not yet.<\/p>\n Permission to try.<\/p>\n That afternoon, I followed their car to the stadium in my Honda.<\/p>\n At a red light, I could see through Lauren’s rear window.<\/p>\n All four children were crammed together in the back despite plenty of available space, laughing over something I couldn’t hear.<\/p>\n Evan sat in the middle.<\/p>\n Not forgotten.<\/p>\n Not squeezed out.<\/p>\n Not politely accepting less.<\/p>\n Exactly where he belonged.<\/p>\n And months later, when I finally found the courage to ask him what he remembered most about that terrible Saturday, I expected him to say the empty seats, Grandma’s wave, or the way Lauren drove away.<\/p>\n Instead he thought for a moment and said, “The third time we rode the Cyclone Drop.”<\/p>\n “Why?”<\/p>\n He smiled.<\/p>\n “Because that was when I stopped looking for Aunt Lauren’s van in the parking lot.”<\/p>\n I turned toward the kitchen window so he wouldn’t see my eyes fill.<\/p>\n Because I finally understood the lesson he had learned before any of us did:<\/p>\n Sometimes the person who leaves you behind is not the one who decides your worth\u2014the person who turns around and chooses you is.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The moment my nine-year-old son realized his own family was leaving him behind, he didn’t cry. He smiled. A tiny, careful smile. The kind children use when they have already … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":18247,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,15,13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21174","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21174","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=21174"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21174\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21175,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21174\/revisions\/21175"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/18247"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=21174"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=21174"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingmydairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=21174"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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