\u201cYour husband didn\u2019t want you to know about me.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words landed harder than they should have.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat much I\u2019ve figured out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Denise shook her head. \u201cI mean he didn\u2019t want you to know because he was afraid you\u2019d misunderstand.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n
After a year of grief, there are certain words that become offensive.<\/p>\n
Misunderstand.<\/p>\n
As if a dead man\u2019s secret could be misunderstood.<\/p>\n
As if there were a version of this where I opened an envelope and discovered everything was simple.<\/p>\n
I took it from her.<\/p>\n
The paper was warm from her hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
She stepped aside.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Denise Mercer. I was the social worker at the VA clinic.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, Mrs. Harlan. You know where I worked.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked down the hallway behind me.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome inside.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t want to.<\/p>\n
I did anyway.<\/p>\n
Her house smelled like coffee and old books. There were framed photographs along the walls, most of them showing the same dark-haired boy at different ages. On a shelf near the kitchen sat a folded American flag inside a triangular glass case.<\/p>\n
I noticed it.<\/p>\n
Denise noticed me noticing it.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy husband,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
I looked back at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe served with Alan?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cVietnam?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
My fingers tightened around the envelope.<\/p>\n
Alan had almost never talked about Vietnam.<\/p>\n
I knew only fragments.<\/p>\n
A place in Kentucky where he had trained.<\/p>\n
A base somewhere overseas.A man named Eddie who had died.<\/p>\n
A promise Alan said he had made \u201ca long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
Whenever I asked what promise, he\u2019d kiss my forehead and say, \u201cThe kind you keep by not talking about it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I used to think that was Alan being Alan.<\/p>\n
Now I wasn\u2019t so sure.<\/p>\n
Denise poured coffee.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t drink it.<\/p>\n
She sat across from me.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlan came to the clinic every Thursday morning,\u201d she said. \u201cHe always arrived early. Always wore the same brown jacket.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe had a brown jacket.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
The way she said it made my stomach turn.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew him well?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI knew him enough.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n
Denise looked toward the blue envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe came because of someone named Thomas Mercer.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her husband\u2019s name.<\/p>\n
I stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour husband?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did Alan have to do with him?\u201d<\/p>\n
She was silent for several seconds.<\/p>\n
Then she said, \u201cThomas was the person Alan believed he had failed.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room seemed to shrink.<\/p>\n
\u201cFailed how?\u201d<\/p>\n
Denise shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s in the letter.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why did he write to me instead of telling me himself?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause he knew he wouldn\u2019t have the courage.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked up sharply.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlan wasn\u2019t afraid of anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
Denise smiled sadly.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was afraid of hurting you.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the first thing she said that sounded like my husband.<\/p>\n
I slid my thumb beneath the envelope flap.<\/p>\n
Inside was a single folded sheet of paper.<\/p>\n
And a photograph.<\/p>\n
I pulled out the photograph first.<\/p>\n
It was old.<\/p>\n
The edges were curled and yellow.<\/p>\n
Three young men stood outside a military barracks.<\/p>\n
One was Alan.<\/p>\n
I knew him immediately, even though he was barely twenty years old.<\/p>\n
His hair was thick and dark. His face was thinner than I\u2019d ever seen it. He was smiling.<\/p>\n
Standing beside him was another soldier.<\/p>\n
And beside that soldier was a third man.<\/p>\n
Thomas Mercer.<\/p>\n
I turned the photograph over.<\/p>\n
Alan had written something on the back.<\/p>\n
June 14, 1971. Camp Holloway. Before everything changed.<\/p>\n
My hands began to shake.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
Denise didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
I unfolded the letter.<\/p>\n
There were only six paragraphs.<\/p>\n
The first began:<\/p>\n
My darling Mara,<\/p>\n
I had to stop reading.<\/p>\n
Nobody had called me darling in Alan\u2019s handwriting before.<\/p>\n
I had heard the word from him thousands of times.<\/p>\n
But seeing it there, in ink written by a man who knew he was dying, made my chest hurt.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
If you\u2019re reading this, then I didn\u2019t get the chance to explain it myself.<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
Of course.<\/p>\n
Even dead, Alan was apologizing for not doing something properly.<\/p>\n
For forty-nine years I have carried something I should have told you about.<\/p>\n
I read that sentence twice.<\/p>\n
Forty-nine years.<\/p>\n
I looked at Denise.<\/p>\n
She was crying.<\/p>\n
Not loudly.<\/p>\n
Just tears slipping down her face.<\/p>\n
I went back to the letter.<\/p>\n
When Thomas was killed, I made a promise to him. I promised that I would find his little sister.<\/p>\n
I stopped.<\/p>\n
Denise whispered, \u201cThat\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was eleven.\u201d<\/p>\n
My eyes dropped back to the page.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know if she was alive. I didn\u2019t know where her family had gone. I only knew Thomas told me her name was Denise and that if he didn\u2019t come home, somebody had to tell her he had not forgotten her.<\/p>\n
My throat tightened.<\/p>\n
Alan had spent forty-nine years searching for this woman.<\/p>\n
And I had never known.<\/p>\n
But then I saw the next line.<\/p>\n
I found her twenty-seven years ago.<\/p>\n
I looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwenty-seven?\u201d<\/p>\n
Denise nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe found me through the clinic.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why didn\u2019t he tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me with an expression I couldn\u2019t understand.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause finding me wasn\u2019t the end of the promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
I read on.<\/p>\n
Thomas left something behind. Something he wanted Denise to have. I finally found it last year.<\/p>\n
Last year.<\/p>\n
The same year Alan died.<\/p>\n
My heartbeat became loud enough that I could hear it.<\/p>\n
I thought I had more time.<\/p>\n
That sentence was underlined.<\/p>\n
Twice.<\/p>\n
I was wrong.<\/p>\n
There was a second photograph inside the envelope.<\/p>\n
I pulled it out.<\/p>\n
This one was newer.<\/p>\n
Much newer.<\/p>\n
Alan stood beside Denise.<\/p>\n
He looked older than I remembered him looking.<\/p>\n
Thinner.<\/p>\n
Tired.<\/p>\n
But he was smiling.<\/p>\n
On the back, he had written:<\/p>\n
She finally knows.<\/p>\n
I stared at those three words.<\/p>\n
Then I noticed something else.<\/p>\n
A date.<\/p>\n
March 2.<\/p>\n
The day before he died.<\/p>\n
I looked at Denise.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou saw him the day before he died?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe came here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe gave me this.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pointed at the envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said it was for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid he say anything else?\u201d<\/p>\n
Denise hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told me you were the strongest person he had ever known.\u201d<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told me you would be angry.\u201d<\/p>\n
Despite everything, I almost smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds like him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe also said something strange.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Denise leaned forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said, \u2018If Mara asks about the promise, don\u2019t tell her until she finds the second key.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
The smile disappeared from my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat second key?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re sure?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid he explain?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked down at the letter again.<\/p>\n
There was something written beneath the signature.<\/p>\n
A final sentence I hadn\u2019t noticed.<\/p>\n
The first key is where we kept our wedding things.<\/p>\n
My mouth went dry.<\/p>\n
Our wedding things.<\/p>\n
I knew exactly where that was.<\/p>\n
The cedar chest in our bedroom.<\/p>\n
The one I hadn\u2019t opened since the funeral.<\/p>\n
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.<\/p>\n
Denise rose too.<\/p>\n
\u201cMrs. Harlan\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMara.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cMara.\u201d<\/p>\n
I folded the letter carefully.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid Alan tell you what the key opens?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid he tell you why he was afraid I\u2019d find it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Denise\u2019s expression changed.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked toward the photograph of her husband.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause he said if you found the second key, you\u2019d finally understand why he never told you what happened to Thomas.\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t breathe for a moment.<\/p>\n
Then my phone rang.<\/p>\n
It was Beth.<\/p>\n
I almost didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice was tense.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAt Denise\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
Then:<\/p>\n
\u201cWho\u2019s Denise?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the woman across the room.<\/p>\n
Before I could answer, Beth said something that made the blood drain from my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, I think you need to come home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was looking through Dad\u2019s things.\u201d<\/p>\n
My hand tightened around the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you find?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA box.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of box?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
She paused.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut there\u2019s a name on it.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart began pounding.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat name?\u201d<\/p>\n
Beth whispered:<\/p>\n
\u201cThomas Mercer.\u201d<\/p>\n
And then the call went dead.<\/p>\n
Tell Her I Kept My Promise \u2014 Part 3: The Ending<\/p>\n
By the time I reached home, Beth was standing on the porch.<\/p>\n
She was holding the box.<\/p>\n
It was smaller than a shoebox, wrapped in brown paper that had gone soft with age. A piece of twine circled it twice.<\/p>\n
My name was written across the top.<\/p>\n
Not Beth\u2019s.<\/p>\n
Mine.<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere did you find it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn Dad\u2019s closet.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBehind the winter coats. There was a loose board in the back.\u201d<\/p>\n
I took the box from her.<\/p>\n
It was heavier than it looked.<\/p>\n
For one strange second, I thought about putting it back.<\/p>\n
Some secrets should stay buried.<\/p>\n
But then I remembered Alan\u2019s letter.<\/p>\n
The first key is where we kept our wedding things.<\/p>\n
I went upstairs.<\/p>\n
The cedar chest sat beneath the window.<\/p>\n
Dust covered the lid.<\/p>\n
I hadn\u2019t touched it in a year.<\/p>\n
Inside were our wedding album, my veil, Alan\u2019s old tie, dried flowers, and the little silver cake knife we\u2019d used on our twenty-fifth anniversary.<\/p>\n
At the very bottom was a velvet pouch.<\/p>\n
My hands shook as I opened it.<\/p>\n
Inside was a key.<\/p>\n
Small.<\/p>\n
Brass.<\/p>\n
Taped to it was a note.<\/p>\n
For the second lock.<\/p>\n
Beth stood behind me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
We searched the house for almost an hour.<\/p>\n
Every drawer.<\/p>\n
Every cabinet.<\/p>\n
Every old toolbox.<\/p>\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n
Then Beth noticed the keyhole.<\/p>\n
It was inside the wooden box.<\/p>\n
I inserted the key.<\/p>\n
The lock clicked.<\/p>\n
Inside were three things.<\/p>\n
A military medal.<\/p>\n
A cassette tape.<\/p>\n
And a letter addressed to me.<\/p>\n
The medal belonged to Thomas Mercer.<\/p>\n
The cassette had one word written on it:<\/p>\n
Listen.<\/p>\n
We found an old tape player in the garage.<\/p>\n
It took three tries to make it work.<\/p>\n
Then Alan\u2019s voice filled the room.<\/p>\n
Older than in the memories I carried.<\/p>\n
Tired.<\/p>\n
But unmistakably his.<\/p>\n
\u201cMara, if you\u2019re hearing this, I\u2019m gone.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you probably hate me right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I whispered, \u201cI don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should.\u201d<\/p>\n
Beth began crying beside me.<\/p>\n
Alan continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cI promised Thomas I\u2019d find his sister. But that wasn\u2019t the only promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tape crackled.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere was another man with us that night.\u201d<\/p>\n
My eyes opened.<\/p>\n
\u201cHis name was Daniel Harlan.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped breathing.<\/p>\n
My father.<\/p>\n
Alan\u2019s voice continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father.\u201d<\/p>\n
Beth covered her mouth.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n
My father had died twenty years before Alan.<\/p>\n
I had never known he had served with them.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe were ordered to leave Thomas behind,\u201d Alan said. \u201cYour father refused. He went back.\u201d<\/p>\n
A long silence followed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThomas was alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
I gripped the edge of the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father found him. He carried him almost a mile before he was shot.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tape crackled again.<\/p>\n
\u201cThomas didn\u2019t make it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt tears on my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut your father did.\u201d<\/p>\n
My whole life, I\u2019d believed my father had been discharged because of an injury he received overseas.<\/p>\n
Alan knew the truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe came home carrying Thomas\u2019s last letter.\u201d<\/p>\n
My eyes went to the box.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat letter was never delivered.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alan took a breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found it forty-nine years later.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room was completely silent.<\/p>\n
\u201cThomas had written to Denise. He wanted her to know he loved her. He wanted her to know he was coming home.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alan\u2019s voice broke.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe never got the chance.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tape clicked.<\/p>\n
For several seconds, there was only static.<\/p>\n
Then Alan said:<\/p>\n
\u201cSo I made him a promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice became softer.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found Denise. I gave her the letter. And she finally knew her brother hadn\u2019t forgotten her.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Beth.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut there was one thing I couldn\u2019t tell you, Mara.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tape hissed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father saved Thomas because he thought he could save him.\u201d<\/p>\n
A pause.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe couldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alan\u2019s next words were barely audible.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut he saved me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I cried then.<\/p>\n
Not the quiet crying I\u2019d learned over the past year.<\/p>\n
It came out of me like something breaking.<\/p>\n
Alan continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father died believing he\u2019d failed.\u201d<\/p>\n
My hands covered my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tape clicked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNeither did I.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was another long silence.<\/p>\n
Then Alan said the words I\u2019d been waiting a year to hear.<\/p>\n
\u201cI kept my promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tape ended.<\/p>\n
Beth and I sat there without speaking.<\/p>\n
Finally, she picked up the letter.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s something else.\u201d<\/p>\n
She unfolded it.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t from Alan.<\/p>\n
It was from Thomas.<\/p>\n
Dated June 14, 1971.<\/p>\n
The last line read:<\/p>\n
If Alan ever finds this, tell him I was never afraid. I knew someone would remember me.<\/p>\n
I held the paper against my chest.<\/p>\n
For a year, I had believed the last thing Alan left behind was an unsent text.<\/p>\n
I had thought those six words were a mystery.<\/p>\n
They weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n
They were a message meant for me.<\/p>\n
Not because Alan had failed to tell me something.<\/p>\n
Because he had spent his final year making sure two families finally heard the truth.<\/p>\n
The next morning, I called Denise.<\/p>\n
She answered on the first ring.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found it,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
She knew immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cThomas\u2019s letter?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She began to cry.<\/p>\n
So did I.<\/p>\n
For the first time since Alan died, I didn\u2019t feel like I was standing at the edge of his life, trying to understand where I\u2019d been left behind.<\/p>\n
I understood.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t been leaving me.<\/p>\n
He had been finishing something.<\/p>\n
Something he had started when he was twenty years old.<\/p>\n
Something he had carried quietly for forty-nine years.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, Beth helped me put the photographs into an album.<\/p>\n
We placed Thomas\u2019s medal beside Alan\u2019s wedding ring.<\/p>\n
My father\u2019s photograph went between them.<\/p>\n
Three men who had carried the same secret.<\/p>\n
Three lives connected by one promise.<\/p>\n
Before we closed the album, I looked once more at Alan\u2019s old flip phone.<\/p>\n
The draft was still there.<\/p>\n
Tell her I kept my promise.<\/p>\n
I finally understood why he had never sent it.<\/p>\n
He knew I would find it eventually.<\/p>\n
He knew I would call the number.<\/p>\n
He knew Denise would answer.<\/p>\n
And he knew that once I heard the truth, I would stop asking myself the question that had haunted me since the morning he died:<\/p>\n
Why didn\u2019t he wake me?<\/p>\n
The answer was simple.<\/p>\n
He had spent his last morning trying to finish the promise he had made to another man.<\/p>\n
And when he couldn\u2019t finish it himself, he trusted me to find the rest.<\/p>\n
That night, I placed the phone back in the shoebox.<\/p>\n
But I didn\u2019t close the lid.<\/p>\n
For the first time in a year, I wasn\u2019t afraid of his things.<\/p>\n
I touched the little silver flip phone and whispered,<\/p>\n
\u201cYou kept it, Alan.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I smiled through my tears.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd so did I.\u201d<\/p>\n
Outside, the porch light came on automatically as evening settled over the house.<\/p>\n
The same light Alan had installed because he hated coming home to a dark porch.<\/p>\n
I stood there for a long time.<\/p>\n
And for the first time since his funeral, the house didn\u2019t feel empty.<\/p>\n
It felt finished.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cYour husband didn\u2019t want you to know about me.\u201d The words landed harder than they should have. \u201cThat much I\u2019ve figured out.\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d Denise shook her head. \u201cI mean he didn\u2019t want you to know because he was afraid you\u2019d misunderstand.\u201d I almost laughed. After a year of grief, there are certain words that become […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"fifu_image_url":"","fifu_image_alt":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2936","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"views":158,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2936","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2936"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2936\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2937,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2936\/revisions\/2937"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2936"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2936"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2936"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}