General Vance stopped directly in front of me, squared his shoulders, and lifted his right hand to his brow.<\/p>\n
I reacted before I had time to think.<\/p>\n
My back straightened. My chin came up. My hand rose in return.<\/p>\n
Image<\/p>\n
Across the ballroom, my father finally understood that the general had not crossed the room because something was wrong.<\/p>\n
He had crossed it for me.<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s face lost its color.<\/p>\n
For a few seconds, I could hear everything too clearly\u2014the low hum of conversation, silverware touching china somewhere behind me, the soft music from the other end of the ballroom.<\/p>\n
But I was looking only at General Vance.<\/p>\n
He knew me.<\/p>\n
Not socially.<\/p>\n
Not vaguely.<\/p>\n
He knew exactly who I was.<\/p>\n
And the medal above my heart told everyone else there was a story my family had never bothered to learn.<\/p>\n
General Vance lowered his hand first.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood to see you standing, Captain,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
The words were simple.<\/p>\n
That made them hit harder.<\/p>\n
My ribs tightened under the uniform as if my body had decided to remind me exactly what standing had cost.<\/p>\n
Less than forty-eight hours after returning from deployment, I had still been moving carefully around my apartment, trying not to twist too fast, trying not to let every ache become a memory.<\/p>\n
Dad had called during that window.<\/p>\n
I had answered hoping he might ask whether I was okay.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
He had asked whether I planned to wear my uniform to Thanksgiving and embarrass Vivian.<\/p>\n
That was the question he had chosen.<\/p>\n
Vivian was bringing Derek Hartwell home, and Derek represented everything Dad could understand quickly: money, confidence, connections, a business venture that sounded important when repeated over dinner.<\/p>\n
Derek wanted access to General Thomas Vance because of a defense investment deal.<\/p>\n
Dad wanted Derek impressed.<\/p>\n
Dad wanted Vivian secure.<\/p>\n
Dad wanted me invisible.<\/p>\n
He had reduced the situation to one equation and decided I was the part that needed to be removed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re the disgrace, not family; Vivian will lose Derek\u2019s defense deal if you appear.\u201d<\/p>\n
I remembered the exact sentence because some sentences don\u2019t need to be shouted to leave a bruise.<\/p>\n
I could have corrected him immediately.<\/p>\n
I could have told him General Vance had already signed the official citation for my Silver Star.<\/p>\n
I could have told him that the citation identified me as the officer who helped bring four soldiers out alive.<\/p>\n
I could have said the name he was treating like a locked door was already written at the bottom of a document connected to me.<\/p>\n
I said nothing.<\/p>\n
At the time, silence felt cleaner than defending myself to a man who had already made his decision.<\/p>\n
Now that same silence stood between us in a ballroom full of witnesses.<\/p>\n
General Vance glanced toward the medal, then back at me.<\/p>\n
There was no performance in his expression.<\/p>\n
No exaggerated praise.<\/p>\n
That mattered to me.<\/p>\n
The people whose names Colonel Caldwell had spoken to me the night before were the reason I had come at all.<\/p>\n
Sergeant Rowan.<\/p>\n
Staff Sergeant Petrov.<\/p>\n
Specialist Cruz.<\/p>\n
They were the reason I had taken the uniform out again after telling myself I wanted nothing to do with another room full of people measuring one another by titles and introductions.<\/p>\n
They were the reason I had polished my boots despite the pain in my side.<\/p>\n
They were the reason the Silver Star was above my heart instead of still packed away.<\/p>\n
General Vance seemed to understand that without my saying it.<\/p>\n
\u201cCaldwell told me you nearly skipped tonight,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI tried.\u201d<\/p>\n
One corner of his mouth moved, not quite a smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard.\u201d<\/p>\n
Behind him, Derek had finally lowered the hand General Vance had walked past.<\/p>\n
He was watching us now.<\/p>\n
Vivian was watching too.<\/p>\n
Dad hadn\u2019t moved.<\/p>\n
I had seen him look proud before.<\/p>\n
At graduations.<\/p>\n
At business dinners.<\/p>\n
Whenever Vivian brought home something he could explain to other people in a sentence.<\/p>\n
He liked accomplishments that arrived polished and easy to display.<\/p>\n
Mine had never worked that way.<\/p>\n
Deployment wasn\u2019t polished.<\/p>\n
Pain wasn\u2019t polished.<\/p>\n
Loss definitely wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
Maybe that was why he had been able to turn my uniform into an embarrassment in his mind.<\/p>\n
If he did not understand what it represented, he could reduce it to appearance.<\/p>\n
General Vance turned slightly, and that small movement brought the others into the conversation without anyone inviting them.<\/p>\n
Derek stepped forward first.<\/p>\n
\u201cGeneral,\u201d he said carefully, \u201cI didn\u2019t realize you two knew each other.\u201d<\/p>\n
Vance looked at him.<\/p>\n
Then he looked back at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know her service.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nothing more.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t need more.<\/p>\n
The sentence crossed the room more effectively than any speech could have.<\/p>\n
Derek\u2019s eyes went to the Silver Star.<\/p>\n
Vivian\u2019s followed his.<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s had already been there.<\/p>\n
For the first time that evening, nobody in my family seemed interested in whether my uniform might embarrass them.<\/p>\n
They were trying to understand what they had missed.<\/p>\n
Derek looked genuinely confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cSilver Star?\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded once.<\/p>\n
He looked from me to General Vance, and something in his posture changed.<\/p>\n
Not fear.<\/p>\n
Calculation.<\/p>\n
He was fitting new information into the version of the evening he had carried in with him.<\/p>\n
Until that moment, I had apparently been the inconvenient daughter Vivian\u2019s father wanted kept away.<\/p>\n
Now the inconvenient daughter was the person the general he wanted access to had crossed a ballroom to salute.<\/p>\n
That contradiction belonged to them.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t have to solve it.<\/p>\n
Vivian took one small step away from Derek\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never told us,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
There it was.<\/p>\n
Not congratulations.<\/p>\n
Not Are you hurt?<\/p>\n
Not Why didn\u2019t we know you were injured?<\/p>\n
Her first instinct was to make my silence the problem.<\/p>\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n
Instead, I said, \u201cYou never asked.\u201d<\/p>\n
She opened her mouth.<\/p>\n
Then closed it.<\/p>\n
Dad finally moved.<\/p>\n
He came closer slowly, as though approaching too fast might make the scene worse.<\/p>\n
His eyes kept returning to the medal.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
That was true.<\/p>\n
It was also incomplete.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t known about the citation.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t known about the extraction in any meaningful detail.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t known how badly my ribs still hurt.<\/p>\n
But those weren\u2019t secrets I had hidden behind some locked door.<\/p>\n
He simply hadn\u2019t asked.<\/p>\n
He had called me after deployment and spent the conversation protecting Vivian\u2019s Thanksgiving.<\/p>\n
He had come to my apartment the next morning and looked around as if my worn furniture and military gear proved something about my value.<\/p>\n
He had ordered me out of Boston for the weekend because my presence might complicate somebody else\u2019s deal.<\/p>\n
He had stood close enough to notice how carefully I was moving.<\/p>\n
He noticed the room instead.<\/p>\n
He noticed the furniture.<\/p>\n
He noticed the uniform.<\/p>\n
He noticed what Derek might think.<\/p>\n
He did not notice me.<\/p>\n
That was the part no medal could fix.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cYou didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s jaw tightened.<\/p>\n
For one moment I thought he might retreat into the same authority he had used in my apartment.<\/p>\n
He had always been comfortable giving instructions when he believed he was protecting the family\u2019s future.<\/p>\n
Leave Boston.<\/p>\n
Don\u2019t show up.<\/p>\n
Don\u2019t wear the uniform.<\/p>\n
Don\u2019t create a problem.<\/p>\n
But there was no order available to him now.<\/p>\n
General Vance was standing beside me.<\/p>\n
Derek was listening.<\/p>\n
Vivian was listening.<\/p>\n
And Dad\u2019s own words were suddenly impossible to disguise as concern.<\/p>\n
General Vance did not rescue me from the conversation.<\/p>\n
I appreciated that.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t turn toward Dad and deliver some perfect line designed to humiliate him.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t announce my citation to the ballroom.<\/p>\n
He simply remained where he was, giving me the same respect he had given me when he saluted.<\/p>\n
The rest was mine.<\/p>\n
Derek cleared his throat.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe four soldiers,\u201d he said. \u201cThat was your operation?\u201d<\/p>\n
I hated the wording immediately.<\/p>\n
Not because it was malicious.<\/p>\n
Because it made the moment sound cleaner than it had been.<\/p>\n
An operation.<\/p>\n
A result.<\/p>\n
Four soldiers alive.<\/p>\n
Those words couldn\u2019t carry the weight of debris, confusion, pain, or the people who had done their jobs beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey weren\u2019t mine,\u201d I said. \u201cThey were ours to get out.\u201d<\/p>\n
General Vance gave the smallest nod.<\/p>\n
That was enough.<\/p>\n
I thought about Colonel Caldwell calling me the evening before.<\/p>\n
She had asked why I was ignoring the gala invitation.<\/p>\n
I had tried to tell her I wasn\u2019t interested.<\/p>\n
She had let me speak for maybe half a minute before the officer in her voice replaced the friend.<\/p>\n
She reminded me the Silver Star wasn\u2019t something I had earned alone.<\/p>\n
She reminded me of Rowan, Petrov, and Cruz.<\/p>\n
People who would never stand in that ballroom.<\/p>\n
People who would never hear a stranger say their names over polished glassware.<\/p>\n
People whose absence mattered more than my discomfort.<\/p>\n
That was why I had come.<\/p>\n
Not Dad.<\/p>\n
Not Vivian.<\/p>\n
Not Derek.<\/p>\n
Certainly not revenge.<\/p>\n
The strange thing was that revenge would have been easier.<\/p>\n
If I had gone there hoping to embarrass Dad, his expression might have felt satisfying.<\/p>\n
Instead, it mostly made me tired.<\/p>\n
Because watching him understand my value only after someone powerful acknowledged it did not feel like winning.<\/p>\n
It felt like confirmation.<\/p>\n
He had needed a general\u2019s salute to see what a phone call from his daughter should have been enough to make him care about.<\/p>\n
Dad looked at General Vance.<\/p>\n
\u201cSir, I think there\u2019s been a misunderstanding in our family.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt something inside me settle.<\/p>\n
Not break.<\/p>\n
Settle.<\/p>\n
For years, Dad had a way of sanding down hard things until they sounded reasonable.<\/p>\n
Exclusion became avoiding conflict.<\/p>\n
Favoritism became helping the child who needed it most.<\/p>\n
Pressure became family responsibility.<\/p>\n
And now telling me to leave Boston because I was a disgrace was becoming a misunderstanding.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t argue.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t need to.<\/p>\n
I looked directly at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou understood what you were saying.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes dropped.<\/p>\n
Short sentence.<\/p>\n
Simple fact.<\/p>\n
No room to hide inside it.<\/p>\n
Vivian shifted beside him.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad was worried about Derek\u2019s deal,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Derek turned toward her.<\/p>\n
It was the first time all evening I saw his expression lose its polished confidence.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy deal?\u201d<\/p>\n
Vivian hesitated.<\/p>\n
Dad stepped in too quickly.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not what she means.\u201d<\/p>\n
But Derek was already looking at him differently.<\/p>\n
I understood then that Dad had built the entire weekend around an assumption: that getting me out of sight would protect Vivian\u2019s future with Derek and protect Derek\u2019s access to General Vance.<\/p>\n
He had never considered what would happen if Derek learned why.<\/p>\n
He had never considered what would happen if General Vance knew me.<\/p>\n
He had never considered me at all.<\/p>\n
That was the mistake beneath every other mistake.<\/p>\n
Derek asked, \u201cYou told her to leave the city because I was coming?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody answered immediately.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer for them.<\/p>\n
This was not my confession to make.<\/p>\n
Vivian looked at Dad.<\/p>\n
Dad looked at me.<\/p>\n
General Vance remained still.<\/p>\n
Finally Dad said, \u201cI was trying to keep one difficult situation from affecting another.\u201d<\/p>\n
There it was again.<\/p>\n
A softer phrase for a hard choice.<\/p>\n
I picked up my glass of water from the bar.<\/p>\n
My hand had stopped tightening around it.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou called me the disgrace,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Derek looked at Dad.<\/p>\n
Vivian looked down.<\/p>\n
General Vance\u2019s expression did not change.<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s did.<\/p>\n
That was when the color really left his face\u2014not because a general had saluted me, but because the exact language he had used was now standing in the room with him.<\/p>\n
He could not smooth it over without denying it.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t deny it.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was angry,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were clear.\u201d<\/p>\n
He flinched at that.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t feel powerful.<\/p>\n
I felt sad.<\/p>\n
There is a particular kind of sadness in realizing someone could have known you better with very little effort.<\/p>\n
One question.<\/p>\n
One visit made without an agenda.<\/p>\n
One moment of noticing that you were standing like every movement hurt.<\/p>\n
Dad had been physically close enough for all of that.<\/p>\n
Emotionally, he had been somewhere else.<\/p>\n
General Vance glanced toward me as if checking whether I wanted him to stay.<\/p>\n
I gave a small nod.<\/p>\n
Not because I needed protection.<\/p>\n
Because I wasn\u2019t finished with the reason I had come.<\/p>\n
\u201cSir,\u201d I said, \u201cif there\u2019s going to be any recognition tonight, I want Rowan, Petrov, and Cruz named with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He answered immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey will be.\u201d<\/p>\n
My throat tightened.<\/p>\n
That mattered.<\/p>\n
More than the look on Dad\u2019s face.<\/p>\n
More than Derek\u2019s confusion.<\/p>\n
More than Vivian\u2019s silence.<\/p>\n
The medal was not proof that I was better than them.<\/p>\n
It was not proof that Dad had been wrong about every argument we had ever had.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t even proof that I had become the successful daughter and Vivian had somehow lost.<\/p>\n
I refused that version too.<\/p>\n
Families do enough damage when love becomes a ranking system.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t interested in winning one.<\/p>\n
Vivian finally looked at me again.<\/p>\n
This time there was no smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cWere you hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n
The question came so late that for a second I didn\u2019t know what to do with it.<\/p>\n
Then I answered honestly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes moved toward my side.<\/p>\n
\u201cBadly?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEnough.\u201d<\/p>\n
She swallowed.<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s expression changed again, but I couldn\u2019t tell whether what I saw was guilt, shock, or simply the discomfort of realizing how much information existed outside the story he had built.<\/p>\n
I did not rush to make him feel better.<\/p>\n
That surprised me.<\/p>\n
The old version of me might have.<\/p>\n
The old version would have explained the injuries were manageable, that I was healing, that nobody should worry, that the timing had been stressful for everyone.<\/p>\n
I had spent years making hard truths easier for other people to hold.<\/p>\n
I was done doing that automatically.<\/p>\n
So I let my answer remain what it was.<\/p>\n
Enough.<\/p>\n
General Vance was approached by another guest a moment later.<\/p>\n
Before he turned away, he looked at me and said, \u201cWe\u2019ll talk before the program.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n
He left us there.<\/p>\n
That may have been the most important part.<\/p>\n
The general walked away, and I was still standing.<\/p>\n
The power did not leave with him.<\/p>\n
Dad seemed to expect the atmosphere to change once Vance was gone.<\/p>\n
It didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
Derek was no longer discussing business.<\/p>\n
Vivian was no longer hanging on his arm.<\/p>\n
And I was no longer the daughter waiting to be allowed back into a family picture.<\/p>\n
Dad said my name quietly.<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan we talk somewhere private?\u201d<\/p>\n
The request would once have pulled me immediately into damage control.<\/p>\n
This time I looked toward the ballroom, toward the people gathering for a program I had almost skipped, toward the place where the names of people I respected were about to matter.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot now,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Dad stared at me.<\/p>\n
I added, \u201cTonight isn\u2019t about fixing this for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded once.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t an apology.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t pretend it was.<\/p>\n
It was simply the first time that weekend he accepted an answer from me without trying to replace it with an order.<\/p>\n
That was enough for one night.<\/p>\n
I moved away from the bar.<\/p>\n
Every step still pulled faintly at my ribs, but I wasn\u2019t hiding the way I walked anymore.<\/p>\n
Vivian called my name behind me.<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
She looked uncertain, stripped of the bright confidence from the Thanksgiving photo that had lit my phone while I ate cold beef stew alone.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know about the medal,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know about any of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sentence could have been an excuse.<\/p>\n
Maybe part of it was.<\/p>\n
But I heard something else too: the beginning of a realization that not knowing was not always the same as being kept in the dark.<\/p>\n
Sometimes people don\u2019t know because they don\u2019t look.<\/p>\n
Sometimes they don\u2019t know because the person being overlooked finally stops begging to be seen.<\/p>\n
I had stopped.<\/p>\n
And strangely, that was the moment they saw me most clearly.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t give Vivian a speech.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t tell her what kind of sister she had been.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t bring up the winter coat or the deployment address or every smaller moment that had collected over the years.<\/p>\n
Those things were still true.<\/p>\n
They just didn\u2019t belong in that ballroom.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can talk later,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
Then I walked toward the front of the room.<\/p>\n
Not away from my family.<\/p>\n
Toward something else.<\/p>\n
There is a difference.<\/p>\n
For years, I had thought boundaries were mostly about leaving\u2014walking out, cutting someone off, refusing a call, closing a door.<\/p>\n
Sometimes they are.<\/p>\n
But that night, mine looked like staying exactly where I had every right to be.<\/p>\n
Dad had ordered me out of Boston because he thought my presence would cost Vivian something.<\/p>\n
I stayed.<\/p>\n
He thought my uniform would embarrass the family.<\/p>\n
I wore it.<\/p>\n
He thought General Vance was somebody whose attention had to be earned through Derek\u2019s business connections.<\/p>\n
The general had crossed the ballroom without waiting for an introduction.<\/p>\n
None of that made me triumphant.<\/p>\n
What it gave me was clarity.<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s approval had always felt important because I had spent so long trying to earn it on terms he understood.<\/p>\n
That night I finally saw the trap in that.<\/p>\n
If someone only recognizes your worth when a more powerful person confirms it, their recognition cannot be the thing you build your life around.<\/p>\n
I found my seat before the program began.<\/p>\n
The Silver Star felt heavy against my uniform.<\/p>\n
For most of the evening, I had been aware of it as an object other people could see.<\/p>\n
Now I thought about the names behind it instead.<\/p>\n
Rowan.<\/p>\n
Petrov.<\/p>\n
Cruz.<\/p>\n
Four soldiers brought out alive.<\/p>\n
People doing what they had been trained to do under conditions none of us would ever describe properly over dinner.<\/p>\n
That was the truth I wanted to carry forward.<\/p>\n
Not the Thanksgiving chair that wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n
Not Dad\u2019s order to leave.<\/p>\n
Not Vivian\u2019s smile beside Derek.<\/p>\n
Not even the look on Dad\u2019s face when General Vance saluted me.<\/p>\n
Those moments mattered, but they were not the center.<\/p>\n
The center was simpler.<\/p>\n
I had come home hurt.<\/p>\n
My family had looked past it.<\/p>\n
I had almost made myself smaller to keep their world comfortable.<\/p>\n
Then someone reminded me that recognition was not about making myself larger than anyone else.<\/p>\n
It was about refusing to erase what had happened and who had been there.<\/p>\n
When General Vance later took his place for the program, I saw Dad across the room.<\/p>\n
He wasn\u2019t talking to Derek anymore.<\/p>\n
Vivian stood beside him, quieter than I had ever seen her at one of these events.<\/p>\n
Dad caught my eye.<\/p>\n
For once, he didn\u2019t motion for me to come over.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t point toward a door.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t signal that I was needed somewhere else.<\/p>\n
He simply looked at me.<\/p>\n
I held his gaze for a moment, then turned toward the front.<\/p>\n
My place was already there.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
General Vance stopped directly in front of me, squared his shoulders, and lifted his right hand to his brow. I reacted before I had time to think. My back straightened. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":36820,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-37780","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37780","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=37780"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37780\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":37781,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37780\/revisions\/37781"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/36820"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=37780"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=37780"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=37780"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}