{"id":1369,"date":"2026-08-20T13:48:27","date_gmt":"2026-08-20T13:48:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/?p=1369"},"modified":"2026-08-20T13:48:27","modified_gmt":"2026-08-20T13:48:27","slug":"my-sister-mocked-my-christmas-gift-then-one-card-exposed-mom","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/?p=1369","title":{"rendered":"My Sister Mocked My Christmas Gift\u2014Then One Card Exposed Mom"},"content":{"rendered":"
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My Sister Mocked My Christmas Gift\u2014Then One Card Exposed Mom<\/h1>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Mark slowly shifted his attention from me to Vanessa, and the expression on his face made it clear that the thirty-eight-thousand-dollar transfer had just become a question she could no longer dodge.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Vanessa noticed it too.<\/p>\n

She had spent the evening owning every inch of my mother\u2019s living room, laughing louder than everyone else, lifting my Christmas present over the tree like something cheap enough to become entertainment.<\/p>\n

Now she couldn\u2019t seem to decide where to look.<\/p>\n

At Mark.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

At Mom.<\/p>\n

At me.<\/p>\n

The leather recipe journal was still on the floor where she\u2019d thrown it, and the family photograph it had struck hung crooked above the side table.<\/p>\n

The white envelope lay open beside it.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

My mother\u2019s wineglass was on its side, a dark stain slowly spreading across the tablecloth.<\/p>\n

Nobody was laughing anymore.<\/p>\n

Mark spoke first.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that true?\u201d<\/p>\n

Vanessa swallowed.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Mom stepped in immediately.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is not the time to discuss private family finances.\u201d<\/p>\n

That sentence almost made me laugh.<\/p>\n

Private.<\/p>\n

Five minutes earlier, my poverty had apparently been public enough for Christmas entertainment.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Vanessa had held my gift above the tree and called it \u201cpoverty, gift wrapped\u201d in front of cousins, spouses, my aunt, my daughter, and anyone else close enough to hear.<\/p>\n

Mom had laughed the hardest.<\/p>\n

But now that the subject was thirty-eight thousand dollars Dad had intended for Lily, suddenly everyone was supposed to respect privacy.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I looked down at my daughter.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Lily was still pressed against my side, her small hand locked around mine.<\/p>\n

She was eight years old.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t understand investment accounts or business transfers or why grown adults sometimes used complicated language when simple words would make them look worse.<\/p>\n

But she understood ridicule.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

She understood that Aunt Vanessa had made fun of her mother.<\/p>\n

She understood that Grandma Diane had enjoyed it.<\/p>\n

And now she understood that something about Grandpa and money had made every adult in the room stop smiling.<\/p>\n

That was enough.<\/p>\n

I squeezed her hand.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cYou okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded, though her eyes stayed on Vanessa.<\/p>\n

Mark asked again.<\/p>\n

\u201cVanessa. Is it true?\u201d<\/p>\n

This time Mom didn\u2019t get between them.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Vanessa stared at him and said, \u201cIt\u2019s complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n

There it was.<\/p>\n

Not no.<\/p>\n

Not impossible.<\/p>\n

Not she\u2019s lying.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Complicated.<\/p>\n

My aunt Carol leaned forward in her chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s complicated about money Dad left for Lily ending up in Vanessa\u2019s business account?\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Vanessa snapped her head toward her.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cNeither do I,\u201d Aunt Carol said. \u201cThat\u2019s why I\u2019m asking.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom picked up the fallen wineglass and set it upright even though there was almost nothing left in it.<\/p>\n

It gave her hands something to do.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis has been taken completely out of context,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen put it back in context.\u201d<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

I had spent so much of my life believing that confidence meant certainty.<\/p>\n

Mom could make an accusation sound like a verdict, a criticism sound like advice, and a cruel joke sound harmless if she smiled while saying it.<\/p>\n

Vanessa had learned the same skill.<\/p>\n

Maybe that was why I had spent years explaining their behavior to myself instead of naming it.<\/p>\n

They were teasing.<\/p>\n

They were stressed.<\/p>\n

They didn\u2019t mean it that way.<\/p>\n

I was too sensitive.<\/p>\n

I was jealous because Vanessa had more money.<\/p>\n

I was making things awkward.<\/p>\n

There was always a softer phrase available if I wanted to keep pretending something sharp hadn\u2019t cut me.<\/p>\n

But there was no soft phrase for thirty-eight thousand dollars.<\/p>\n

There was a number.<\/p>\n

There was a date.<\/p>\n

There was an account.<\/p>\n

And there was Lily.<\/p>\n

Mark looked at the envelope on the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat exactly was on that card?\u201d<\/p>\n

Vanessa moved toward it before I could answer, then stopped herself.<\/p>\n

That tiny movement told the room almost as much as her scream had.<\/p>\n

I said, \u201cEnough for her to know I saw the paperwork.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom said my name again.<\/p>\n

Dictionaries & Encyclopedias<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Quietly.<\/p>\n

Warningly.<\/p>\n

I ignored her again.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad\u2019s money for Lily didn\u2019t disappear because the market dropped,\u201d I said. \u201cIt was transferred three weeks after he died. Thirty-eight thousand dollars went into Vanessa\u2019s business account.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s face hardened.<\/p>\n

He looked at his wife.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou knew?\u201d<\/p>\n

Vanessa didn\u2019t answer immediately.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t need to.<\/p>\n

Everyone in the room had already heard what she\u2019d screamed at Mom: You swore she didn\u2019t know. You said she never saw the paperwork.<\/p>\n

Those weren\u2019t the words of somebody hearing about the transfer for the first time.<\/p>\n

They were the words of somebody discovering that a secret hadn\u2019t stayed secret.<\/p>\n

Mark seemed to reach the same conclusion.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou knew,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Vanessa folded her arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew there had been a transfer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom jumped in.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat does not mean what she\u2019s making it sound like.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned toward her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t told them what it means.\u201d<\/p>\n

That stopped her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve told them what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n

For once, I didn\u2019t need to decorate the truth.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t need to call Mom selfish.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t need to call Vanessa greedy.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t need to tell everyone what kind of people I thought they were.<\/p>\n

The facts were doing more work than anger ever could.<\/p>\n

Thirty-eight thousand dollars.<\/p>\n

Dad.<\/p>\n

Lily.<\/p>\n

Three weeks.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Vanessa\u2019s business account.<\/p>\n

That was enough.<\/p>\n

Mark rubbed one hand across his mouth.<\/p>\n

His Christmas sweater suddenly looked absurdly cheerful against his expression.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy would Lily\u2019s college money go into your business account?\u201d<\/p>\n

Vanessa looked at Mom.<\/p>\n

Mom looked at me.<\/p>\n

Neither answered him.<\/p>\n

And that mattered.<\/p>\n

Because this was the same Vanessa who always had an answer.<\/p>\n

She had an answer when I couldn\u2019t afford the restaurant she wanted for Mom\u2019s birthday.<\/p>\n

She had an answer when I wore the same winter coat three years in a row.<\/p>\n

She had an answer whenever my life gave her something she could turn into a joke.<\/p>\n

Tonight, she\u2019d even had an answer for my wrapped Christmas gift before she knew what was inside it.<\/p>\n

But one straightforward question from her husband left her staring at the carpet.<\/p>\n

I felt Lily lean against my hip.<\/p>\n

That brought me back to the reason I\u2019d nearly kept quiet in the first place.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t come to Mom\u2019s house planning to blow up Christmas.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t spent a week feeding my daughter rice, eggs, and the last vegetables from our freezer because I wanted some theatrical revenge scene.<\/p>\n

I had bought Vanessa that journal because, months earlier, she\u2019d said she wished somebody had saved Grandma\u2019s recipes in one permanent place.<\/p>\n

I remembered the comment because I remembered things people loved.<\/p>\n

Even people who didn\u2019t always treat me kindly.<\/p>\n

The journal was leather-bound and simple.<\/p>\n

To Vanessa, it probably looked modest compared with the expensive things she was used to.<\/p>\n

To me, it had required arithmetic.<\/p>\n

Gas.<\/p>\n

Groceries.<\/p>\n

Bills.<\/p>\n

Christmas.<\/p>\n

Sixty-one dollars left in checking.<\/p>\n

Every choice had a number attached to it.<\/p>\n

That was the part Vanessa could never understand when she joked about money.<\/p>\n

For her, expensive and cheap were descriptions.<\/p>\n

For me, they were decisions.<\/p>\n

They decided what Lily and I ate.<\/p>\n

They decided what I postponed.<\/p>\n

They decided whether I could put gas in the car without checking my balance first.<\/p>\n

Still, I had wanted to give my sister something thoughtful.<\/p>\n

That almost embarrassed me more than the joke had.<\/p>\n

Not anymore.<\/p>\n

Vanessa finally spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou came here planning this.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the journal on the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cI came here with a Christmas gift.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWith that card inside it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you wanted to humiliate me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost admired the speed of it.<\/p>\n

In less than ten seconds, the person who had lifted my present over the Christmas tree and mocked my poverty had recast herself as the victim of public humiliation.<\/p>\n

Mom seized on it immediately.<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly. You could have spoken to us privately.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI tried private for years.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t add anything else.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t need to.<\/p>\n

Mom\u2019s face tightened because she knew what I meant.<\/p>\n

Private was where concerns disappeared.<\/p>\n

Private was where I was told I\u2019d misunderstood.<\/p>\n

Private was where uncomfortable facts became family misunderstandings and family misunderstandings became my responsibility to forget.<\/p>\n

Tonight had started differently only because Vanessa had made it different.<\/p>\n

She had picked up the package.<\/p>\n

She had held it above the tree.<\/p>\n

She had called everyone into the joke.<\/p>\n

She had created the audience.<\/p>\n

All I\u2019d done was tell her to finish opening the gift.<\/p>\n

Aunt Carol glanced toward Lily, and her expression changed.<\/p>\n

Not dramatically.<\/p>\n

Just enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou did all of this in front of her?\u201d she asked Mom.<\/p>\n

Mom frowned.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid all of what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLaughed at her mother for being poor.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom gave a frustrated sigh.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was a joke.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lily\u2019s fingers tightened around mine again.<\/p>\n

I felt it before I saw her face.<\/p>\n

That tiny squeeze did something to me that all the yelling hadn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

This wasn\u2019t only about Dad\u2019s money anymore.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t even only about Vanessa and Mom.<\/p>\n

It was about what my daughter was learning while standing beside me.<\/p>\n

Was she learning that people with more money were allowed to humiliate people with less?<\/p>\n

Was she learning that family got an unlimited number of chances to hurt you as long as they used the word joke afterward?<\/p>\n

Was she learning that keeping the peace meant standing still while somebody made you smaller?<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t control what Vanessa taught her.<\/p>\n

I could control what I did next.<\/p>\n

So I stopped arguing.<\/p>\n

That surprised Mom more than yelling would have.<\/p>\n

I bent down, picked up the leather journal, and brushed a tiny piece of broken frame backing from its cover.<\/p>\n

The journal itself was still intact.<\/p>\n

The ribbon wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

I tucked the white envelope inside it and closed the cover.<\/p>\n

Vanessa stared at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTaking my gift back.\u201d<\/p>\n

She gave a short, disbelieving laugh.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Short answer.<\/p>\n

No speech.<\/p>\n

The journal had cost me too much to leave on the floor of a house where thoughtfulness was treated like weakness.<\/p>\n

Vanessa looked offended by that in a way she hadn\u2019t looked offended by the missing college money.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou gave it to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you threw it at a wall.\u201d<\/p>\n

She opened her mouth.<\/p>\n

Nothing useful came out.<\/p>\n

Mark still hadn\u2019t taken his eyes off her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re not done with this,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

His voice was low, but the meaning was obvious.<\/p>\n

Vanessa\u2019s attention snapped back to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cMark\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThirty-eight thousand dollars, Vanessa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom stepped toward them.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t turn this into something bigger than it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark looked at her then.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m trying to understand how big it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was the first moment all evening when Mom seemed to realize she couldn\u2019t manage every person in the room at once.<\/p>\n

She could pressure me.<\/p>\n

She could defend Vanessa.<\/p>\n

She could dismiss Aunt Carol.<\/p>\n

But she couldn\u2019t answer Mark\u2019s question without touching the fact she\u2019d been trying to keep buried.<\/p>\n

So she changed direction.<\/p>\n

She looked at Lily.<\/p>\n

\u201cSweetheart, why don\u2019t you go look at the presents in the other room?\u201d<\/p>\n

I answered before Lily could move.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s staying with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom\u2019s eyes flashed.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdults are talking.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdults were talking when Vanessa mocked me too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom pressed her lips together.<\/p>\n

Lily looked up at me.<\/p>\n

I hated that she was in the middle of it.<\/p>\n

But pretending she hadn\u2019t already been brought into it wouldn\u2019t protect her.<\/p>\n

So I crouched beside her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re going home soon,\u201d I said quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she looked at the journal tucked under my arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that Aunt Vanessa\u2019s present?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan we keep it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n

She shrugged in that small, serious way kids do when they\u2019re trying to solve a problem adults have made unnecessarily hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe could put our recipes in it.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time that night, my throat tightened for a reason that had nothing to do with humiliation.<\/p>\n

Our recipes.<\/p>\n

Rice made four different ways because payday was still three days away.<\/p>\n

Eggs stretched with whatever vegetables were left.<\/p>\n

The pancakes Lily liked on Saturday mornings.<\/p>\n

The soup Dad used to ask for.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The things that wouldn\u2019t impress Vanessa but belonged to us anyway.<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. We can.\u201d<\/p>\n

Behind us, the argument had started again.<\/p>\n

Vanessa was insisting the situation couldn\u2019t be explained in front of everyone.<\/p>\n

Mark kept asking why money meant for Lily had entered her business account.<\/p>\n

Mom kept trying to move the conversation somewhere private.<\/p>\n

Aunt Carol kept refusing to pretend she hadn\u2019t heard what she\u2019d heard.<\/p>\n

For once, I didn\u2019t feel responsible for managing any of them.<\/p>\n

That was new.<\/p>\n

I had spent years believing that because I was the one with less money, less influence, and less appetite for confrontation, I was also the person who had to absorb the discomfort.<\/p>\n

If Vanessa insulted me, I should be gracious.<\/p>\n

If Mom favored her, I should be mature.<\/p>\n

If something hurt, I should consider whether mentioning it might ruin the holiday.<\/p>\n

But peace that depends on one person accepting every insult isn\u2019t peace.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s permission.<\/p>\n

I had finally stopped giving it.<\/p>\n

I helped Lily into her coat.<\/p>\n

Mom noticed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re leaving?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn Christmas Eve?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was that old trick again\u2014taking my response to what happened and presenting it as the real offense.<\/p>\n

I picked up Lily\u2019s things.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s still Christmas Eve at home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom stared at me.<\/p>\n

Vanessa stared too.<\/p>\n

Neither apologized.<\/p>\n

That told me more than an apology forced by the room ever could have.<\/p>\n

At the front door, Lily slipped her hand into mine.<\/p>\n

I had the recipe journal tucked beneath my other arm.<\/p>\n

The cheap gift.<\/p>\n

The poverty gift.<\/p>\n

The object that had been lifted above a Christmas tree for a laugh and thrown at a wall when it stopped being funny.<\/p>\n

Behind me, Mark asked Vanessa the same question one more time.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t stay to hear her answer.<\/p>\n

That part belonged to them.<\/p>\n

The part that belonged to me was already clear.<\/p>\n

Dad had wanted that money connected to Lily\u2019s future.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It had ended up somewhere else.<\/p>\n

Mom knew enough to assure Vanessa I hadn\u2019t seen the paperwork.<\/p>\n

Vanessa knew enough to panic when she discovered that I had.<\/p>\n

Whatever explanations came afterward couldn\u2019t erase those facts.<\/p>\n

Outside, the cold hit my face as soon as we stepped away from the house.<\/p>\n

Lily stayed close while we headed toward the car.<\/p>\n

She was quiet for a few seconds.<\/p>\n

Then she asked, \u201cAre we in trouble?\u201d<\/p>\n

That question nearly stopped me.<\/p>\n

Not because of the money.<\/p>\n

Because she thought telling the truth might mean we had done something wrong.<\/p>\n

I knelt beside her before opening the car door.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cWe\u2019re not in trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n

She studied my face.<\/p>\n

\u201cEven because Grandma\u2019s mad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEven then.\u201d<\/p>\n

That answer seemed to satisfy her more than any long explanation could have.<\/p>\n

She climbed into the car.<\/p>\n

I put the journal beside her instead of tossing it into the back.<\/p>\n

She rested one mittened hand on the cover like it was already ours.<\/p>\n

Maybe that was the part Vanessa never understood about value.<\/p>\n

Price tells you what something costs.<\/p>\n

It doesn\u2019t tell you what it\u2019s worth.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d walked into that house embarrassed that I had only sixty-one dollars left in my checking account.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d watched my sister turn that embarrassment into a joke.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d watched my mother reward her for it with the loudest laugh in the room.<\/p>\n

For a few awful seconds, I had felt exactly as small as they wanted me to feel.<\/p>\n

Then Vanessa opened the gift.<\/p>\n

And suddenly money was no longer the measure of who had power.<\/p>\n

Information was.<\/p>\n

Memory was.<\/p>\n

The truth was.<\/p>\n

More important, choice was.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t change what Mom and Vanessa had done with Dad\u2019s money by standing in that living room and shouting until midnight.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t give Lily back a Christmas Eve where none of it had happened.<\/p>\n

But I could decide what happened next in the part of the night I controlled.<\/p>\n

So I got into the driver\u2019s seat.<\/p>\n

Lily leaned forward from the back and asked if we could write Grandma\u2019s pancake recipe in the journal first.<\/p>\n

I smiled despite everything.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf we remember it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI remember it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Of course she did.<\/p>\n

Kids remember more than adults think they do.<\/p>\n

That had been the reason I tried so hard not to scream inside Mom\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

It was also the reason leaving mattered.<\/p>\n

Someday Lily might forget the exact words Vanessa used over the Christmas tree.<\/p>\n

She might forget the wineglass tipping or the crooked family photograph or the way every cousin suddenly became fascinated by the floor when the truth came out.<\/p>\n

But I hoped she would remember one thing clearly.<\/p>\n

Her mother did not stay where she was being humiliated just because the people doing it were family.<\/p>\n

And the journal Vanessa called a poverty gift didn\u2019t remain on the floor where she threw it.<\/p>\n

It came home with us.<\/p>\n

Later that night, Lily opened it at our kitchen table.<\/p>\n

The first page was blank.<\/p>\n

She found a pen, carefully printed her name at the top, and pushed the journal toward me.<\/p>\n

Dictionaries & Encyclopedias<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

The same book that had been used to shame me a few hours earlier was no longer evidence of what I couldn\u2019t afford.<\/p>\n

It was ours to fill.<\/p>\n

And for that Christmas, that was the only part of the story I needed to finish before morning.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/article>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My Sister Mocked My Christmas Gift\u2014Then One Card Exposed Mom Mark slowly shifted his attention from me to Vanessa, and the expression on his face made it clear that the … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1000,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13,12,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1369","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news","category-story","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1369","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1369"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1369\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1370,"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1369\/revisions\/1370"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1000"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1369"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1369"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/usastoryreader.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1369"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}