{"id":481,"date":"2026-07-19T06:31:10","date_gmt":"2026-07-19T06:31:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/?p=481"},"modified":"2026-07-19T06:31:10","modified_gmt":"2026-07-19T06:31:10","slug":"at-72-i-married-my-high-school-boyfriend-and-then-his-children-kicked-me-out-of-the-house-dressed-in-my-mourning-dress","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/?p=481","title":{"rendered":"At 72 I married my high school boyfriend, and then his children kicked me out of the house dressed in my mourning dress."},"content":{"rendered":"

The first line of Garrett\u2019s letter read: \u201cMy dearest Eleanor, if you are reading this somewhere other than our home, then my children have given me the reason.\u201d My knees trembled.<\/span><\/strong><\/em><\/h4>\n

I dropped on the dried grass next to my sister\u2019s old caravan, clinging to the envelope, while the lawyer was bowing to hold me. Two weeks earlier, Garrett\u2019s children had pushed an old suitcase toward my feet and ordered me to leave.<\/span><\/p>\n

I left with nothing but the black dress I had worn to bury my husband.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now, a limousine was standing on the gravel road, with the dust rising around her tires, and a lawyer in a gray suit told me that Garrett had made sure I got exactly what she deserved.<\/span><\/p>\n

I still didn\u2019t know if those words were a blessing or a last disappointment.<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy behind the graduates<\/span><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\u23ec\"Continue on the next page<\/span> \"\u23ec\"<\/p>\n

Garrett Hayes kissed me for the first time behind the high school grades in 1972.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was seventeen. He had eighteen. Garrett had a crooked smile, a rust-colored Chevrolet pickup truck and the habit of making promises as if the universe had already committed to fulfill them.<\/span><\/p>\n

That afternoon, he took my face in his hands and said, \u201cEleanor, someday I\u2019ll buy you a diamond ring.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I laughed. The soles of his shoes were peeling off and his truck only started when he was hitting the board.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWith what money?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI will solve it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

That was Garrett.<\/span><\/p>\n

One rainy afternoon, he accompanied me walking home two miles after his truck broke down. When we got to my porch, his shoes were completely soaked, but he didn’t complain.<\/span><\/p>\n

I thought that was what eternity looked like.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then my father helped a job in another state. Garrett went to work for his uncle in Ohio. The calls were expensive, the cards became less frequent and pride filled the void that honesty should have left.<\/span><\/p>\n

Neither of them betrayed the other. Life just attracted us and we finally separated.<\/span><\/p>\n

I marry Thomas Reed, a patient and hardworking man. We raised two daughters in a small Indiana town, and I loved him for the constant, generous man he was.<\/span><\/p>\n

Garrett married Margaret, raised Alice and Brent, founded a successful construction company, and bought a huge brick house on the outskirts of Columbus.<\/span><\/p>\n

For more than five decades, our lives went parallel without touching each other.<\/span><\/p>\n

Thomas died after forty-six years of marriage. A few years later, Margaret also passed away.<\/span><\/p>\n

We both loved good people. We both buried them.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then, fifty-three years after our last farewell, Garrett found me in a church cake sale.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
For illustrative purposes only.<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
<\/div>\n

The man on the cake table<\/span><\/h2>\n

I was preparing lemon bars when someone behind me said, \u201cYou keep wearing your hair the same.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I was paralyzed.<\/span><\/p>\n

I turned around and found Garrett next to a table full of apple pies. Her hair was silver, her shoulders slightly slouched, but her crooked smile was still intact.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you keep talking too softly,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

It rivers so hard that three church ladies turned to look at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Garrett bought two cakes he didn\u2019t need and stayed until the sale was over. Afterwards, we had coffee in a coffee shop and chatted until the waitress started stacking chairs around us.<\/span><\/p>\n

He told me about Margaret. I’ll tell you about Thomas.<\/span><\/p>\n

We didn\u2019t compare them or pretend that our marriages had been mistakes. We speak with gratitude. Garrett had not returned to erase my past, but to join the part of my life that still remained.<\/span><\/p>\n

Over the next three months, we visited farmers\u2019 markets, watched old movies and complained about restaurant coffee. For the first time since Thomas\u2019 death, I laughed without feeling guilty afterwards.<\/span><\/p>\n

One afternoon, Garrett took me to the old football field of our high school. Graduates had been replaced and a locked fence prevented us from accessing the place where he first kissed me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGoodbye to romanticism,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

He pulled a velvet box out of his coat.<\/span><\/p>\n

Inside was a simple diamond ring.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI told you I would solve it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She was seventy-two years old and cried like a little girl in the flashing light of a parking lot.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I whispered. Of course I’ll marry you.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\u23ec\"Continue on the next page<\/span> \"\u23ec\"<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A wedding that not everyone celebrated<\/span><\/h2>\n

We got married in the little church where he had met me again.<\/span><\/p>\n

My daughters were by my side. At first they had questions, but they saw how kindly Garrett treated me and welcomed him with open arms.<\/span><\/p>\n

His children don’t.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alicia was late and wore a forced smile in all the photographs. Brent shook my hand like we were closing a deal.<\/span><\/p>\n

At the reception, I heard Alicia near the wardrobe.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe barely saw Dad again for three months,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd now he\u2019s wearing a diamond and moving into the house?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe have to make sure he hasn\u2019t lost his mind,\u201d Brent replied.<\/span><\/p>\n

I walked away before they saw me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn’t care about Garrett’s mansion. Its marble hallway looked like that of a hotel, and I would have been just as happy in my two-bedroom bungalow.<\/span><\/p>\n

But Garrett had lived there for thirty years. Margaret had chosen the wallpaper and planted rose bushes along the southern fence. I respected that. I never moved his photographs, or changed his tableware, nor did I ask Garrett to hide the cedar trunk that contained his stuff.<\/span><\/p>\n

I brought some boxes, my recipe books, Thomas\u2019 pocket watch and photographs of my daughters.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alice continued to act as if I had invaded sacred ground.<\/span><\/p>\n

One night, during dinner, he scolded me for sitting in the chair that Margaret used to occupy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is also Eleanor\u2019s house now,\u201d Garrett said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Later, I asked him not to fight his children because of me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey are in mourning,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou too,\u201d he replied. Pain does not give the right to be cruel.<\/span><\/p>\n

That\u2019s when I realized I was more worried than I admitted.<\/span><\/p>\n

The promise he made in private.<\/span><\/h2>\n

Eight months after we got married, Garrett began organizing the papers of his studio.<\/span><\/p>\n

He met twice with his lawyer, Samuel Price. When I asked him if anything was wrong, he told me he was updating old business documents.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have to worry about the money,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care about money.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know. That\u2019s why I care about you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I reminded him that I had a pension, savings and my house, that my youngest daughter was renting.<\/span><\/p>\n

Garrett took my hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEleanor, you\u2019ve spent your life settling for what you had. That doesn\u2019t mean people have the right to pass you on needs.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

A week later, while we were sitting on the back porch during a storm, he said, \u201cIf anything happens to me, remember that I knew perfectly who you were.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of thing is that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat kind of phrase that an old man says when he wants the woman he loves to believe him.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Three days later, Garrett collapsed at his home.<\/span><\/p>\n

At nightfall, the boy who had accompanied me in the rain was no longer there.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
For illustrative purposes only.<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The day the keys were removed<\/span><\/h2>\n

The funeral passed between flowers, hymns and people who told me that Garrett had lived a full life.<\/span><\/p>\n

That didn’t make the goodbye any less empty.<\/span><\/p>\n

When we came home, I sat on the edge of the bed and held the sweater Garrett had left on a chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alice showed up at the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to pack your bag.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I thought I got it wrong.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere to pack?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEverywhere. This house belongs to our family.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am his family.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou were his wife for eight months.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Brent came in carrying my old brown suitcase. I left it at my feet.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUntil the succession is resolved, we are protecting Dad\u2019s property,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t expect me to leave today.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Alice crossed her arms. \u201cYou\u2019ve already shamed our mother\u2019s memory quite a bit.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at the photographs of the hallway: Margaret with the newborn Alice in her arms, Garrett teaching Brent to fish, Christmas mornings and graduations. I never wanted to erase any.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI loved your father very much,\u201d I said. And I respected your mother.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alice looked away.<\/span><\/p>\n

I packed two dresses, a sweater, my toothbrush and Thomas’ pocket watch. They watched me as if I feared I would steal the silver.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the way to the ground floor, I saw our wedding photograph on the side table. Garrett came out laughing. I looked at it as if the seventy-two years were the beginning of everything.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d I whispered. At least let me take a picture of him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alice stood between the frame and me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Nothing in this house belongs to you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Brent reached out to give him the keys.<\/span><\/p>\n

I gave them to them and came out in the black dress I had worn to bury my husband.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\u23ec\"Continue on the next page<\/span> \"\u23ec\"<\/p>\n

Two weeks in the trailer<\/span><\/h2>\n

The caravan of my late sister Ruth was parked next to a county road, between a soy field and a mechanical workshop. The refrigerator vibrated and the bedroom window did not close.<\/span><\/p>\n

I told my daughters they needed space. The truth is, I was ashamed.<\/span><\/p>\n

A naive part of me wondered if Alice was right. Maybe eight months was too little time to consider us handcuffs. Perhaps love found late in life seemed ridiculous to those who had not experienced it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every morning, I was looking for Garrett before remembering that he was gone.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the morning of the fourteenth day, I hung my washed dresses behind the trailer.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then I heard tires on gravel.<\/span><\/p>\n

A black limousine stopped by the mailbox.<\/span><\/p>\n

A man dressed in a gray suit came out of the premises, holding a closed envelope.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMrs. Hayes?\u201d she asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

I recognized Samuel Price, Garrett’s lawyer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEleanor,\u201d he said sweetly, \u201cGarrett left precise instructions that he should deliver it to you personally. I wanted to make sure you got exactly what you deserved.<\/span><\/p>\n

My hands were shaking so much that I needed three attempts to break the seal.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then I read the first line.<\/span><\/p>\n

My dearest Eleanor, if you are reading this anywhere other than inside our house, then my children have given me the reason.<\/span><\/p>\n

My knees failed.<\/span><\/p>\n

What Garrett knew<\/span><\/h2>\n

Mr. Price helped me sit in a folding chair under the trailer awning.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI should have contacted you before,\u201d he explained, \u201cbut Alicia and Brent told the staff of the house that you had decided to leave. They turned down my calls and said he was staying with family. Yesterday, his daughter contacted my office.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Garrett wrote that he had noticed the distrust of his children and heard them talk about whether I wanted their money. He had expected time to soften them, but he prepared in case the pain hardened them.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then I came to the phrase that destroyed me.<\/span><\/p>\n

You deserve more than my money, Ellie. You deserve to be believed. You deserve to be protected. And you deserve to know that, during the last eight months of my life, you made me happier than I thought an old man could be.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I was able to talk again, Mr. Price explained to me about the inheritance.<\/span><\/p>\n

The mansion did not belong to Alice or Brent.<\/span><\/p>\n

Garrett had included him in a trust in life years ago. After our wedding, he modified the trust and appointed me the owner after his death, along with his usual content and enough money for his maintenance.<\/span><\/p>\n

He also left me an investment account and his part of a small lakeside cabin that we had visited twice.<\/span><\/p>\n

His children were not disinherited. Each received a generous trust, Margaret\u2019s family relics and stakes in the construction company.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t want to punish them,\u201d Mr. Price said. \u201cI wanted to stop you from being punished.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid they kick me out of my own house?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes. They can take them away from me today.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Watch my dresses move on the shopkeeper. Two weeks earlier, that offer might have seemed like justice.<\/span><\/p>\n

But Garrett had not raised his children to be destitute, and I had not loved him to become cruel in his name.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. Give them deadline until tomorrow. Ask them to come and see me home.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\u23ec\"Continue on the next page<\/span> \"\u23ec\"<\/p>\n

The reading you never expected<\/span><\/h2>\n

Alicia and Brent were waiting for me in the main hall when he returned.<\/span><\/p>\n

My wedding photograph was gone.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alicia looked at the lawyer at me. \u201cWhat is she doing here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s here because this is her property,\u201d said Mr. Price.<\/span><\/p>\n

Brent’s river. \u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The lawyer read the trust. With every sentence, they paled. The house, the land and almost everything inside belonged to me. His father had provided them separately. They had no authority to take my keys.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alice turned to me. \u201cYou forced him to do this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d said Mr. Price. His father gave these instructions in private. Eleanor did not know the terms.<\/span><\/p>\n

He handed them a letter that Garrett had written.<\/span><\/p>\n

Brent read it out loud.<\/span><\/p>\n

Your mother was the love of my middle age, and Eleanor was the love I had the joy to meet again. Loving one did not make the other disappear. If you honor your mother by humiliating an innocent woman, then you haven’t understood any of her generosity.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alicia sat down.<\/span><\/p>\n

For a long moment, no one spoke.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then he whispered, \u201cHe knew what we would do.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI was afraid of what the pain might make you do,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

For the first time, I saw fear under his anger. He had lost his mother, watched his father remarry, and then lost it before he understood anything about it. In his mind, I had taken his last chapter and inherited the place where his childhood passed.<\/span><\/p>\n

His cruelty was inexcusable.<\/span><\/p>\n

But it was understandable.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI thought you were going to replace her,\u201d Alice said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI could never replace your mother. I didn\u2019t even try.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Brent looked at the ground. \u201cWe shouldn\u2019t have kicked you out.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. You shouldn’t have done it.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn’t rush to comfort them. Forgiveness does not require pretending that the damage never happened.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI asked for a picture,\u201d I continued. You didn’t even want to give it to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alice covered her mouth and left the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

When he returned, he carried the wedding photograph with him. Garrett\u2019s reading glasses rested on the frame.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI packed this,\u201d he said. \u201cI was angry.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I took the picture.<\/span><\/p>\n

Garrett was still laughing.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\u23ec\"Continue on the next page \"\u23ec\"<\/p>\n

Exactly what he deserved<\/span><\/h2>\n

That afternoon, I sat alone on the back porch.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mr. Price handed me the last page of Garrett’s letter.<\/span><\/p>\n

I cried until the sky darkened.<\/span><\/p>\n

Garrett hadn\u2019t left me a fortune so I could defeat his children.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had left myself the right to decide what would happen next.<\/span><\/p>\n

For several months, I stood there, drinking from her chipped cup and sitting among Margaret\u2019s roses, learning that a home could hold more than one great love.<\/span><\/p>\n

Finally, I invited Alicia and Brent to dinner.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was awkward until Brent told an anecdote about Garrett, who accidentally glued his work boots to the yard with cement. I laughed so much that I almost dropped the bowl of the sauce. Alice started laughing and crying at the same time.<\/span><\/p>\n

That dinner didn’t fix everything.<\/span><\/p>\n

But he opened a door.<\/span><\/p>\n

Later, Alice helped me to classify Margaret’s memories. Brent repaired the caravan and helped my daughter buy a house. They apologized more than once.<\/span><\/p>\n

I forgive them little by little, sincerely and without giving up my dignity.<\/span><\/p>\n

So I decided what to do with the mansion.<\/span><\/p>\n

The House of Second Chances<\/span><\/h2>\n

Garrett’s house had too many rooms for a single lonely woman.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

So I used part of the inheritance to turn it into a community center for seniors who are rebuilding their lives after a loss.<\/span><\/p>\n

We call it<\/span> House of the Second Spring<\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

The dining room became a weekly dinner place. The study was transformed into a free legal clinic where widows and widowers were able to learn about wills, trusts and housing rights. The glazed terrace became an art studio. The garden hosted concerts and support meetings for people in mourning.<\/span><\/p>\n

I named Margaret the rose bush.<\/span><\/p>\n

I named Thomas at the workshop.<\/span><\/p>\n

And I put the library the name Garrett, the boy who once promised me a diamond ring when he could barely afford to have dry shoes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alicia worked as a volunteer in the garden. Brent helped renovate rooms for families in need.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the first anniversary of Garrett’s death, we placed a bench under the larger maple. His badge said:<\/span><\/p>\n

LOVE NEVER COMES LATE.<\/span><\/p>\n

After the ceremony, Alice stayed by my side.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry I made you feel like eight months don\u2019t count,\u201d she said.<\/span><\/p>\n

I played Garrett’s ring.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSome people give us decades,\u201d I said. \u201cOthers give us a season. Love is not measured by time alone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She slid her arm through mine.<\/span><\/p>\n

For the first time, it felt natural.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\u23ec\"Continue on the next page<\/span> \"\u23ec\"<\/p>\n

The life that gave me back<\/span><\/h2>\n

People listen to my story and focus on the mansion, the limo or the inheritance.<\/span><\/p>\n

But Garrett\u2019s greatest gift was a single sentence:<\/span><\/p>\n

You deserve to be believed.<\/span><\/p>\n

By the age of seventy-two, I had almost allowed two grieving people to convince me that my marriage was foolish and my love a shame because I had come too late to Garrett\u2019s life.<\/span><\/p>\n

But love is no less real because it will come after the reeds, the grandchildren, the funerals and the doubts.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sometimes love comes back after fifty-three years.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sometimes you find yourself next to a table full of lemon bars.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sometimes it delivers on a promise made after the degrees.<\/span><\/p>\n

And sometimes, when the world throws you into the street dressed only in a mourning dress, love sends a black limousine down a gravel road, not to avenge you, but to give you back your dignity.<\/span><\/p>\n

Garrett made sure he got exactly what he deserved.<\/span><\/p>\n

It’s not just a house.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not just money.<\/span><\/p>\n

One choice.<\/span><\/p>\n

A family that learned the lesson.<\/span><\/p>\n

A place where lonely people could start over.<\/span><\/p>\n

And the certainty that, however late, love may come into our lives, it still has the power to transform them.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The first line of Garrett\u2019s letter read: \u201cMy dearest Eleanor, if you are reading this somewhere other than our home,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":482,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-481","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/481","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=481"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/481\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":483,"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/481\/revisions\/483"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/482"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=481"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=481"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flavorlab.delicedcook.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=481"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}