\u201cEverybody look at me for three seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n
Daniel was checking the boat straps for what had to be the fourth time.<\/p>\n
\u201cThree seconds. That\u2019s all I\u2019m asking.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDad\u2019s squishing me,\u201d my youngest complained.<\/p>\n
Daniel tightened the arm around his shoulders.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood. Maybe you\u2019ll stay still.\u201d<\/p>\n
The boys laughed.<\/p>\n
I took the picture.<\/p>\n
Click.<\/p>\n
Daniel glanced toward the truck.<\/p>\n
\u201cLife jackets?\u201d<\/p>\n
Three groans.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhistles?\u201d<\/p>\n
The middle one threw his head back.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHumor me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re packed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Daniel nodded as if national security had just been confirmed.<\/p>\n
That was my husband.<\/p>\n
Full tank before a road trip.<\/p>\n
Weather checked twice.<\/p>\n
Then checked again because apparently weather could change in the seventeen seconds since the last refresh.<\/p>\n
He had fished that lake for three years.<\/p>\n
He knew every launch point, every shallow stretch, and every place the current turned strange after heavy rain.<\/p>\n
That morning, I kissed him and told the boys not to live on chips all weekend.<\/p>\n
Daniel climbed into the truck.<\/p>\n
\u201cSunday night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled through the open window.<\/p>\n
\u201cMiss me responsibly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGo.\u201d<\/p>\n
The boys waved.<\/p>\n
I took one last picture as the truck pulled away.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know I had just photographed four people I would never see again.<\/p>\n
Sunday evening, dinner got cold.
\nAt seven, I called Daniel.<\/p>\n
No answer.<\/p>\n
At 7:30, I called our oldest son.<\/p>\n
Just ringing.<\/p>\n
By 8:00, I was annoyed.<\/p>\n
By 9:00, I was scared.<\/p>\n
At 10:15, I called the police.<\/p>\n
The next morning, Daniel\u2019s truck was found near the marina.<\/p>\n
The empty boat trailer was still attached.<\/p>\n
His wallet was inside the truck.<\/p>\n
So were two jackets.<\/p>\n
The boat was found several hours later on the opposite shore, completely empty and badly damaged.<\/p>\n
Search teams spent weeks combing the area with divers, boats, helicopters, and volunteers walking the shoreline.<\/p>\n
They came up empty.<\/p>\n
No sign of Daniel.<\/p>\n
No sign of the boys.<\/p>\n
Eventually, the official conclusion became the only answer anybody could give me.<\/p>\n
Boating accident.<\/p>\n
Strong current.<\/p>\n
Bodies likely carried away.<\/p>\n
I nodded when people said it.<\/p>\n
Signed paperwork.<\/p>\n
Then went home to three daughters and four empty places at the table.<\/p>\n
But one question never stopped scratching at me.<\/p>\n
How?<\/p>\n
Daniel was careful.<\/p>\n
Painfully careful.<\/p>\n
If the forecast looked bad, he canceled.<\/p>\n
If equipment needed repair, the trip waited.<\/p>\n
If one of the boys forgot a life jacket, Daniel would have driven all the way home before launching without it.<\/p>\n
So how did a man like that take all three of our sons onto a lake and never bring any of them back?<\/p>\n
Nobody could tell me.<\/p>\n
Dean tried.<\/p>\n
Daniel\u2019s brother was around constantly after the accident.
\nHe changed a tire in the rain because I had forgotten cars still needed ordinary things after your life ended.<\/p>\n
He fixed a leaking faucet.<\/p>\n
He brought groceries when I forgot to buy them.<\/p>\n
But whenever I mentioned the lake, something closed in his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cAndrea, you have to stop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI just want to understand\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if they missed something?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey searched for weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if Daniel turned around because something happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dean would rub both hands over his face.<\/p>\n
Then say some version of the same thing.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have three daughters who still need you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hated him for saying that.<\/p>\n
Not because he was wrong.<\/p>\n
Because it sounded too much like:<\/p>\n
Forget the other four.<\/p>\n
I never did.<\/p>\n
Six years passed.
\nThe girls grew up around absence.<\/p>\n
One daughter started college.<\/p>\n
Another learned to drive.<\/p>\n
Birthdays came.<\/p>\n
Christmases came.<\/p>\n
School pictures changed.<\/p>\n
The bedrooms at the end of the hall barely did.<\/p>\n
Sophie became the person who finally said what everyone else had apparently been thinking.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, we need to go through their things.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
She was standing in the doorway of her brothers\u2019 room holding an empty cardboard box.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMom\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI said no, Sophie.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re not throwing anything away, Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why are you holding a box?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo donate what somebody could use.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared past her.<\/p>\n
That room wasn\u2019t a shrine.<\/p>\n
At least I told myself it wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
But too many things remained exactly where they\u2019d been.<\/p>\n
A baseball cap still hung from one bedpost.<\/p>\n
A stack of comic books sat beside another.<\/p>\n
One sneaker had been under a desk for six years because I couldn\u2019t bring myself to move it.<\/p>\n
Some stupid part of me had never stopped expecting footsteps in the hall.<\/p>\n
Sophie lowered her voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re not coming back for these.\u201d<\/p>\n
That hurt.<\/p>\n
She knew it immediately.<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked away.<\/p>\n
Then reached for another box.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
We started packing.<\/p>\n
Old shirts.<\/p>\n
Books.<\/p>\n
School supplies.<\/p>\n
Things children outgrow when they\u2019re allowed to keep growing.<\/p>\n
After a while, I stepped away to cook.<\/p>\n
Dinner was still hours off, but I needed an excuse to leave.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t stay in that room any longer.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, Sophie found the phone.
\nShe came into the kitchen holding a black rectangle with a cracked corner.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked up from the pile of old charging cables.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWasn\u2019t this Dad\u2019s?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My heart started pounding.<\/p>\n
I took it from her.<\/p>\n
It was Daniel\u2019s old phone.<\/p>\n
The one he\u2019d told me he\u2019d lost nearly a year before the fishing trip.<\/p>\n
We\u2019d searched the car.<\/p>\n
The garage.<\/p>\n
The couch.<\/p>\n
The junk drawers.<\/p>\n
Eventually, we bought him another.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere was this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBottom of the electronics bin,\u201d Sophie said.<\/p>\n
I flipped the phone over.<\/p>\n
It was completely dead.<\/p>\n
Sophie found a matching charger and plugged it in.<\/p>\n
She sat beside it like she was waiting for a pulse.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, what if there are pictures?\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze.<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably old ones.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if there are videos? Voice notes?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
The phone finally powered on.<\/p>\n
It automatically connected to our home Wi-Fi.<\/p>\n
A few minutes later, old photos began filling the gallery.<\/p>\n
Then Sophie opened it.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t watch.<\/p>\n
Not yet.<\/p>\n
So I left her at the table and went upstairs.<\/p>\n
A few minutes later, I heard her running.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Something in her voice made me turn.<\/p>\n
Sophie stood in my bedroom doorway holding the phone with both hands.<\/p>\n
Her face had gone pale.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
She swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a video that synced from Dad\u2019s account.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart started racing.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of video?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s from the day before the fishing trip.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stepped toward her.<\/p>\n
Sophie looked down at the screen.<\/p>\n
Then back at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, I know what really happened back then.\u201d<\/p>\n
I just stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDad wasn\u2019t alone in it,\u201d she whispered. \u201cUncle Dean was there.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pressed play.<\/p>\n
Daniel appeared on the screen.<\/p>\n
He\u2019d propped his phone on the workbench while checking fishing gear.<\/p>\n
He was alive.<\/p>\n
Laughing.<\/p>\n
Moving around the garage like nothing terrible could possibly be waiting for him.<\/p>\n
I reached for the bedpost.<\/p>\n
Then someone walked into the frame behind him.<\/p>\n
Dean.<\/p>\n
I stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is he doing there?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophie didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
On the video, Dean said, \u201cI\u2019m not going, man.\u201d<\/p>\n
Daniel looked up sharply.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean you\u2019re not going?\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned toward Sophie.<\/p>\n
\u201cGoing where?\u201d<\/p>\n
She whispered, \u201cFishing, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n
My pulse spiked.<\/p>\n
Dean had been invited.<\/p>\n
In six years, he had never told me.<\/p>\n
The video kept playing.<\/p>\n
Daniel threw a life jacket onto the workbench.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need this weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dean laughed bitterly.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy girlfriend walked out three months ago, Dan. Fishing isn\u2019t going to fix that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Daniel looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. But sitting alone won\u2019t either.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dean looked away.<\/p>\n
Daniel lowered his voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome with us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then Daniel picked up another life jacket.<\/p>\n
Checked the straps.<\/p>\n
And said something that made every hair on my arms rise.<\/p>\n
\u201cKids don\u2019t remember every expensive thing you buy them, Dean.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pulled hard on the buckle.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey remember whether you came back.\u201d<\/p>\n
My breath stopped.<\/p>\n
Daniel had said that the day before he never came back.<\/p>\n
The video froze for half a second.<\/p>\n
But that wasn\u2019t the part Sophie had been trying to show me.<\/p>\n
She reached over and dragged the video forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, listen to what Dad says next.\u201d<\/p>\n
Daniel was still talking to Dean.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine. Don\u2019t come fishing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dean looked away.<\/p>\n
Daniel tightened another life-jacket strap.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut come over Sunday night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe boys are going to talk your ear off whether you like it or not.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dean almost smiled.<\/p>\n
Then the video ended.<\/p>\n
I stared at the black screen.
\nSophie opened another folder.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad\u2019s old phone was still connected to the same account as the replacement one, Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n
She showed me a saved location.<\/p>\n
A small outdoor-supply store miles from Daniel\u2019s usual route to the marina.<\/p>\n
Timestamp: Sunday morning.<\/p>\n
The day they disappeared.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy would he go there?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophie shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
So we went.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
An older employee studied the last photograph I\u2019d taken in our driveway.<\/p>\n
He stared at the boys.<\/p>\n
Then pointed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThese three.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart jumped.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou remember them?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHard not to,\u201d he said. \u201cThey argued for ten minutes over whistle colors.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhistles?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOrange emergency whistles. Your husband bought one for each boy.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sounded exactly like Daniel.<\/p>\n
Then the man added, \u201cAnd another adult flotation vest.\u201d<\/p>\n
I frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe already had one.\u201d<\/p>\n
The employee shrugged.<\/p>\n
\u201cSaid his brother might meet them.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
I drove straight to Dean\u2019s house.<\/p>\n
He opened the door and took one look at my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened, Andrea?\u201d<\/p>\n
I held up Daniel\u2019s old phone.<\/p>\n
Dean looked like he\u2019d seen a ghost.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were supposed to go.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
His eyes dropped to the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cI changed my mind Sunday morning,\u201d he finally whispered. \u201cI was driving toward the lake when emergency vehicles passed me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I held my breath.<\/p>\n
Dean\u2019s eyes filled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI got there after the search started.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat would it have changed?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI deserved to know, Dean.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve spent six years thinking if I\u2019d been on that boat, maybe there would\u2019ve been another adult,\u201d he admitted. \u201cMaybe I could\u2019ve done something.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you decided I couldn\u2019t handle that?\u201d I shot back.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought you had enough, Andrea.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked him straight in the eye.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t get to decide what I could carry.\u201d<\/p>\n
He flinched.<\/p>\n
Then I told him about the extra flotation vest.<\/p>\n
Dean looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe bought that for me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cApparently.\u201d<\/p>\n
His face crumpled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never even used it.\u201d<\/p>\n
That became our next question.<\/p>\n
If Dean never boarded the boat, where had the extra vest gone?<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
A retired search coordinator helped us review the old recovery inventory.
\nMost of the gear had been cataloged without anyone knowing exactly what Daniel had packed.<\/p>\n
Now we did.<\/p>\n
The numbers did not match.<\/p>\n
The spare adult flotation vest was missing.<\/p>\n
So was one orange whistle.<\/p>\n
The coordinator stared at the report for a long time.<\/p>\n
Then said, \u201cThere was another incident on that lake that afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat incident?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSmall boat capsized. Older man and his grandson.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid they survive?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth.\u201d<\/p>\n
I gripped the edge of the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho helped them?\u201d<\/p>\n
He searched through the old report.<\/p>\n
\u201cStatement says another fishing boat reached them first. One adult. Several boys.\u201d<\/p>\n
A wave of dizziness hit me.<\/p>\n
Sophie whispered, \u201cMom\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
I already knew.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
The grandfather still had the whistle when we met.<\/p>\n
Six years later, it hung from a nail in his garage.<\/p>\n
Orange.<\/p>\n
Cheap.<\/p>\n
Daniel\u2019s.<\/p>\n
When I showed him our driveway photograph, he pointed immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s them.\u201d<\/p>\n
My knees nearly gave out.<\/p>\n
He told us only what he remembered.<\/p>\n
His boat overturned when a storm rolled in faster than the forecast had predicted.<\/p>\n
His grandson, Ben, was struggling to keep his head above water.<\/p>\n
Then Daniel\u2019s boat appeared.<\/p>\n
The boys threw flotation gear.<\/p>\n
One of them kept screaming instructions.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth arms! Put both arms through!\u201d<\/p>\n
I covered my mouth.<\/p>\n
Sophie grabbed my hand.<\/p>\n
I knew that voice without hearing it.<\/p>\n
My middle son used to bark those exact same words when helping his sisters into backpacks.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth arms.\u201d<\/p>\n
The grandfather smiled sadly.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat kid wouldn\u2019t stop yelling until Ben had it on right.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another boat eventually reached them.<\/p>\n
Daniel waited until help was close.<\/p>\n
Then turned toward shore as the weather worsened.<\/p>\n
After that, the grandfather saw nothing.<\/p>\n
No magical answer.<\/p>\n
No hidden survival story.<\/p>\n
No miracle that brought my family back.<\/p>\n
Just the last known thing my husband and sons had done.<\/p>\n
They had stopped.<\/p>\n
Because someone needed help.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
Ben was eighteen now.<\/p>\n
When he walked into the garage, I stared at him longer than I meant to.<\/p>\n
For six years, I had counted the children who never came home.<\/p>\n
Standing in front of me was one who did.<\/p>\n
He barely remembered Daniel\u2019s face.<\/p>\n
But he remembered the shouting.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth arms.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was enough.<\/p>\n
The final hours of my sons\u2019 lives had always existed only in my imagination.<\/p>\n
Cold water.<\/p>\n
Fear.<\/p>\n
Panic.<\/p>\n
Now one tiny piece contained something else.<\/p>\n
Their voices.<\/p>\n
Their habits.<\/p>\n
Them.<\/p>\n
My boys had still been themselves in those final known moments.<\/p>\n
Daniel had still been Daniel.<\/p>\n
Checking straps.<\/p>\n
Thinking about safety.<\/p>\n
Stopping because somebody else was in trouble.<\/p>\n
It didn\u2019t give me back what I\u2019d lost.<\/p>\n
But it changed the shape of the last day I\u2019d been imagining for six years.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
That evening, Sophie and I went back to the bedrooms.<\/p>\n
Donation boxes still covered the floor.<\/p>\n
She touched one.<\/p>\n
\u201cShould we put everything back?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked around.<\/p>\n
For six years, I\u2019d kept their belongings because some part of me thought moving them meant moving away from the people who owned them.<\/p>\n
As if leaving a shirt in a drawer kept a child closer.<\/p>\n
As if an untouched room could hold time still.<\/p>\n
I finally understood differently.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. We started.\u201d<\/p>\n
I picked up a box.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe finish.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophie nodded.<\/p>\n
This time, when I folded one of the boys\u2019 old sweatshirts and placed it inside, I didn\u2019t feel as if I were erasing him.<\/p>\n
I was simply letting an object be an object again.<\/p>\n
The memories weren\u2019t in the drawer.<\/p>\n
They were with me.<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
A few days later, we met Dean, Ben, and his grandfather near the lake.
\nI brought one of my sons\u2019 fishing rods.<\/p>\n
Ben stared when I offered it to him.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe would\u2019ve hated seeing a good rod sit in a closet,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Ben took it carefully.<\/p>\n
Dean stood beside me, looking toward the water.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve spent six years thinking an empty place on that boat belonged to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the orange whistle in the grandfather\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe not everything Daniel packed ended up where he expected,\u201d I replied.<\/p>\n
Dean\u2019s eyes filled.<\/p>\n
Sophie quietly raised her phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
For one terrible second, all I saw was that driveway six years earlier.<\/p>\n
Daniel.<\/p>\n
Three boys.<\/p>\n
The last photograph.<\/p>\n
Sophie looked through the screen.<\/p>\n
\u201cCloser.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dean stepped beside me.<\/p>\n
Ben held the fishing rod.<\/p>\n
His grandfather rested a hand on his shoulder.<\/p>\n
Nobody replaced anybody.<\/p>\n
Nobody could.<\/p>\n
But we were still connected by what happened that day.<\/p>\n
By a life jacket.<\/p>\n
An orange whistle.<\/p>\n
A decision to stop when someone needed help.<\/p>\n
Sophie smiled.<\/p>\n
Click.<\/p>\n
And this time, I didn\u2019t wonder who might disappear after the picture.<\/p>\n
I simply let myself be in it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cEverybody look at me for three seconds.\u201d Daniel was checking the boat straps for what had to be the fourth time. \u201cThree seconds. That\u2019s all I\u2019m asking.\u201d \u201cDad\u2019s squishing me,\u201d … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":37271,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-39979","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\/39979","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=39979"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/39979\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":39981,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/39979\/revisions\/39981"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/37271"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=39979"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=39979"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=39979"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}