{"id":12947,"date":"2026-10-07T01:53:59","date_gmt":"2026-10-07T01:53:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/?p=12947"},"modified":"2026-10-07T01:53:59","modified_gmt":"2026-10-07T01:53:59","slug":"we-decided-to-adopt-our-85-year-old-neighbor-after-his-wife-passed-away-before-answering-he-said-i-need-to-confess-something","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/?p=12947","title":{"rendered":"We Decided to Adopt Our 85-Year-Old Neighbor After His Wife Passed Away \u2013 Before Answering, He Said, \u2018I Need to Confess Something\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"

For two years, our elderly neighbor had shared meals at our table, spent time with our five children, and responded to \u201cGrandpa\u201d as though he had always been part of the family. But when we tried to make that bond official, his reaction made me realize there might be much more about him that we never knew.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Walter\u2019s face drained of color when he saw the adoption papers.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t emotion.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t surprise.<\/p>\n

It was fear.<\/p>\n

He placed the folder on our dining table with such care that, for one strange moment, I wondered if there was something dangerous inside.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s something I have to tell you,\u201d he said. \u201cI was going to anyway. I\u2019ve left it too long already.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then his eyes moved toward my five children, who were still eating his birthday cake.<\/p>\n

\u201cCould they finish in the other room?\u201d<\/p>\n

That was the moment I realized something was seriously wrong.<\/p>\n

Two years earlier, Walter had bought the small house next door.<\/p>\n

He was 86 at the time, newly widowed and painfully lonely. Once, he admitted that the quiet in his new home felt worse than the silence in the house he\u2019d shared with his wife for 41 years.<\/p>\n

Silence was never an issue in our house.<\/p>\n

My husband and I have five children.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s always a missing shoe, someone shouting from upstairs, something sticky left on a counter, and a grocery bill large enough to make me question whether everyone truly needs three meals a day.<\/p>\n

Walter first started stopping by while the kids were outside playing.<\/p>\n

Before long, he was throwing balls with them, repairing loose bicycle chains, and having coffee at our kitchen table.<\/p>\n

Eventually, I stopped asking whether he wanted to stay for dinner because asking suggested there was a possibility he wouldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

The children began calling him Grandpa.<\/p>\n

No one told them to.<\/p>\n

It simply happened.<\/p>\n

Then Walter became sick that spring.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t anything serious, but sitting in a hospital waiting room while staff repeatedly asked how I was related to him forced me to confront something uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t his daughter.<\/p>\n

Legally, I wasn\u2019t anything to him.<\/p>\n

So my husband and I began researching adult adoption.<\/p>\n

For Walter\u2019s 88th birthday, we planned to ask whether he would let us legally formalize what had already become true in every other way.<\/p>\n

Instead, Walter asked my children to leave the room.<\/p>\n

My husband sat beside me.<\/p>\n

Walter kept staring at the folder.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t let you do this without telling you why I came here,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy you came here?\u201d<\/p>\n

He gestured toward the wall separating our property from his.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew you lived next door when I bought that house.\u201d<\/strong><\/h1>\n

I actually laughed.<\/p>\n

Just one sharp sound, because I was certain I had misunderstood him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t end up beside you by accident, Abby.\u201d<\/p>\n

My husband reached for my hand.<\/p>\n

I pulled it away\u2014not because of him.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, I needed both hands free.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you know me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Walter looked older than I had ever seen him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter Margaret died, I took one of those ancestry tests.\u201d<\/p>\n

That explained nothing.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cI wasn\u2019t interested in finding out whether I was twelve percent this or twenty percent that.\u201d He swallowed. \u201cI was looking for someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy granddaughter.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n

His eyes stayed fixed on mine.<\/p>\n

\u201cHer name was Abby.\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt my husband turn toward me.<\/p>\n

Before I could say anything, Walter continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy daughter was named Kate. She had a baby when she was 19. A little girl she placed for adoption.\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly, the room felt much smaller.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Walter\u2019s eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cKate was your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shot to my feet so quickly that my chair scraped across the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbby\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. You don\u2019t get to just say that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I had spent my entire childhood without knowing where I came from.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d been adopted as a baby, but that placement didn\u2019t last.<\/p>\n

Afterward came foster homes.<\/p>\n

Some were decent.<\/p>\n

Others weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n

None became permanent.<\/p>\n

By adulthood, I had stopped imagining some perfect reunion where a woman who shared my eyes would suddenly appear and explain everything.<\/p>\n

Still, years earlier, I had taken an ancestry test.<\/p>\n

At first, I checked the results obsessively.<\/p>\n

Mostly, I found distant relatives.<\/p>\n

No one who could answer the questions that actually mattered.<\/p>\n

Eventually, I stopped checking altogether.<\/p>\n

I stared at Walter.<\/p>\n

\u201cShow me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded immediately.<\/p>\n

I brought out my laptop.<\/p>\n

It took three tries to remember my password and then a reset before I finally accessed the account.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Several notifications were waiting.<\/p>\n

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

A close-family match.<\/p>\n

Walter.<\/p>\n

I stared until the words on the screen blurred.<\/p>\n

My husband quietly said my name.<\/p>\n

I ignored him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen?\u201d I asked Walter.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen did you get your result?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore you moved here?\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cBefore you ever spoke to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

His response was almost a whisper.<\/p>\n

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

I pushed the laptop away.<\/p>\n

In an instant, every memory from the previous two years looked different.<\/p>\n

Walter appearing beside the fence while my children played.<\/p>\n

Walter accepting that first cup of coffee.<\/p>\n

Walter sitting at our table while I complained about laundry and homework.<\/p>\n

Walter smiling when my youngest first called him Grandpa.<\/p>\n

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

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

\u201cYou sat in this house and knew?\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cMy kids called you Grandpa.\u201d<\/p>\n

His expression collapsed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you said nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

I got up again.<\/p>\n

My husband asked, \u201cAbby, do you want a minute?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Because one question mattered more than everything else.<\/p>\n

I faced Walter.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere were you when I was eight?\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, he seemed to stop breathing.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere were you when I was being moved again?\u201d I asked. \u201cWhere were you when I had my stuff in trash bags? Where was Kate?\u201d<\/p>\n

Walter shut his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe didn\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Another laugh escaped me, but there was no humor in it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou knew I existed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. But we thought you were with your family.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t have a family.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe thought you did.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then Walter told me about Kate.<\/p>\n

She had been 19 when she became pregnant.<\/p>\n

My biological father disappeared before I was born, and Kate never heard from him again.<\/p>\n

Walter and Margaret had begged her to reconsider giving me up.<\/p>\n

They offered to help raise me and even said they would take me themselves if she couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

But Kate believed adoption would give me something she couldn\u2019t provide\u2014a stable life with parents who were prepared for a child.<\/p>\n

So she went through with it.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe thought she was giving you what she couldn\u2019t,\u201d Walter said. \u201cTwo parents. A home. Stability.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that worked out.\u201d<\/p>\n

He flinched.<\/p>\n

I regretted the words almost immediately, but I didn\u2019t take them back.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe didn\u2019t know,\u201d Walter said. \u201cNeither did we. We believed you\u2019d gone home with the family who would raise you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou never knew I went into foster care?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Something inside me shifted.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t make the past better.<\/p>\n

But the story I had carried for my entire life had always been simple: someone gave me away, and no one ever returned.<\/p>\n

Now Walter was telling me that perhaps the truth was more complicated.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

\u201cDid she ever look for me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Walter nodded.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMore than once.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow could she not find me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe adoption was closed. We didn\u2019t know what name you\u2019d been given or where the family lived. Kate tried when you were older. Margaret tried again later. They made calls, wrote letters, followed every lead they could find. Nothing went anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen where is Kate?\u201d<\/p>\n

That question finally broke him.<\/p>\n

Walter lowered his gaze.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe died nine years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat down.<\/p>\n

For more than 40 years, my biological mother had existed somewhere in the abstract.<\/p>\n

Maybe she was alive.<\/p>\n

Maybe she was dead.<\/p>\n

Maybe she was happy or miserable.<\/p>\n

Maybe she wondered about me.<\/p>\n

Maybe she never thought about me at all.<\/p>\n

Now she had a name.<\/p>\n

Kate.<\/p>\n

And she had been dead for nine years.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou expect me to believe she searched for me?\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Walter said. \u201cI expect you to ask me to prove it.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

He stood.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have something at my house.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll come.\u201d<\/p>\n

My husband began getting up, but I shook my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need to do this.\u201d<\/p>\n

Walter and I walked next door in silence.<\/p>\n

I had been inside his house hundreds of times.<\/p>\n

Now it suddenly felt completely unfamiliar.<\/p>\n

He disappeared into his bedroom and came back carrying an old cardboard box.<\/p>\n

He placed it on the coffee table.<\/p>\n

Inside were documents, faded photographs, envelopes, and a tiny hospital bracelet.<\/p>\n

The first thing he handed me was a photograph.<\/p>\n

A young woman held a newborn baby.<\/p>\n

I knew before Walter said a word.<\/p>\n

Kate had my chin.<\/p>\n

Or maybe I had hers.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s you,\u201d Walter said.<\/p>\n

I touched the edge of the photograph.<\/p>\n

Then I discovered the letters.<\/p>\n

Several were addressed simply to \u201cMy daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe couldn\u2019t send them,\u201d Walter said. \u201cFor a while, she wrote anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you read them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot all of them.\u201d<\/p>\n

I opened one.<\/p>\n

Kate had written it when I was six years old.<\/p>\n

She wondered if I liked books.<\/p>\n

She wondered what color my bedroom was and whether I slept with a night-light.<\/p>\n

She hoped my adoptive parents celebrated birthdays in a big way and had family traditions that were already becoming part of my childhood.<\/p>\n

More than anything, she hoped someone was always waiting for me when I came home.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t keep reading.<\/p>\n

By six, I had already left the home that was supposed to be permanent.<\/p>\n

By eight, I packed my belongings more carefully than most children because I already understood how quickly another move could happen.<\/p>\n

Kate hadn\u2019t known.<\/p>\n

In her mind, I was safe.<\/p>\n

That knowledge didn\u2019t erase the choice she had made.<\/p>\n

But for the first time, giving me away and not wanting me no longer felt like exactly the same thing.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

\u201cMargaret tried too,\u201d Walter said.<\/p>\n

He showed me pages covered in my grandmother\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n

Names.<\/p>\n

Dates.<\/p>\n

Phone numbers.<\/p>\n

Crossed-out addresses.<\/p>\n

Notes marking every dead end.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter Kate died, Margaret kept saying somebody had to find you. Then she got sick.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then she died.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you finally did the test.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

I looked around his small living room.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy move next door?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t know how to contact you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could have called.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could have written.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could have knocked on my door and said, \u2018Hi, I\u2019m your grandfather.’\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

The fact that he wouldn\u2019t defend himself somehow made me even angrier.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Walter sat across from me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI meant to. Before I moved, I practiced what I\u2019d say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI met you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat sounds ridiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

He rubbed his hands together.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe first week, you told me something about growing up in foster homes. Just casually. You were talking about why you wanted your kids to have one home they could always come back to.\u201d<\/p>\n

I remembered that conversation.<\/p>\n

I had been pulling weeds.<\/p>\n

Walter had been standing near the fence.<\/p>\n

\u201cI went home,\u201d he continued, \u201cand realized what we\u2019d believed all those years wasn\u2019t true. Kate thought she\u2019d given you a stable home. Margaret thought you had parents somewhere. And there you were telling me you grew up being moved around.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice cracked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t know how to tell you I belonged to the family that had lost you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you said nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat first day, yes. Then I told myself I\u2019d tell you the next.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour kids started coming over.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen you invited me for coffee. Then dinner. Then your little one called me Grandpa.\u201d<\/p>\n

A faint smile crossed his face for half a second before disappearing.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat should\u2019ve been the moment I told you. Instead, I got scared.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat I\u2019d lose all of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I got up and walked toward the window.<\/p>\n

From there, I could see my house.<\/p>\n

Two houses.<\/p>\n

One fence.<\/p>\n

Two years.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou found me,\u201d I said. \u201cDo you understand that? I spent my childhood wondering why nobody came. You finally found me, and then you let me spend two more years not knowing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I don\u2019t think you do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do, Abby.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice stayed quiet.<\/p>\n

\u201cFinding you late wasn\u2019t my choice. Not telling you once I did was.\u201d<\/p>\n

That stopped me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was a coward,\u201d he said. \u201cEvery week I waited made it worse. And every week I loved you all more, which made me more afraid. There\u2019s no excuse for that.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked down at Kate\u2019s letter.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cI\u2019d decided to tell you after I got sick.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen we handed you adoption papers.\u201d<\/p>\n

Walter gave a small, sad laugh.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd there you were asking if I would become your family when I\u2019d been lying about the fact that I already was.\u201d<\/strong><\/h1>\n

I returned home carrying the box.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t forgive Walter that night.<\/p>\n

But I didn\u2019t tell him to leave either.<\/p>\n

Over the next several days, I read.<\/p>\n

Kate had written about ordinary things.<\/p>\n

Songs she heard.<\/p>\n

Jobs she disliked.<\/p>\n

Birthdays when she wondered what kind of cake I preferred.<\/p>\n

Those letters couldn\u2019t return anything I had lost.<\/p>\n

But they gave me something I hadn\u2019t realized I still needed.<\/p>\n

Proof that somewhere, I had existed in someone else\u2019s thoughts.<\/p>\n

On the fourth evening, I saw Walter sitting alone on his porch.<\/p>\n

I sat beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI would\u2019ve wanted to meet her,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m angry that I can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I\u2019m still angry at you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should be.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cBut I\u2019m glad you found me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Walter covered his face with his hands.<\/p>\n

That was when he finally began to cry.<\/p>\n

We told the children the following day.<\/p>\n

They were stunned for roughly four seconds before my eight-year-old proudly announced that this proved he had been right to call Walter Grandpa all along.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cActually,\u201d my husband said, \u201che\u2019s your great-grandpa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Walter groaned.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbsolutely not. I just turned 88. There\u2019s no need to exaggerate.\u201d<\/p>\n

The kids found that hilarious.<\/p>\n

Later, I noticed the adoption folder still sitting exactly where Walter had left it on his birthday.<\/p>\n

I picked it up and carried it into the kitchen.<\/p>\n

Walter was already there, helping my youngest with homework.<\/p>\n

When he noticed the folder, he became quiet.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll figure out whether any of this paperwork still makes sense,\u201d I told him. \u201cBut that\u2019s not the important part anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n

I put the folder away.<\/p>\n

For most of my life, I believed there were only two possibilities.<\/p>\n

Either someone kept you, or they didn\u2019t want you.<\/p>\n

Kate\u2019s letters couldn\u2019t erase the pain of my childhood.<\/p>\n

Discovering Walter was my grandfather couldn\u2019t erase all the homes I had been moved through.<\/p>\n

Being related by blood didn\u2019t excuse his decision to hide the truth for two years.<\/p>\n

But I finally understood something I never had before.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t been forgotten.<\/p>\n

I had been lost.<\/p>\n

My family had spent years searching without ever managing to reach me.<\/p>\n

And eventually, one stubborn old man succeeded.<\/p>\n

That evening, Walter lingered beside the dining table after dinner was ready.<\/p>\n

For two years, he had pulled out the same chair without ever asking.<\/p>\n

Now, for the first time, he seemed uncertain whether it still belonged to him.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

I placed a plate in front of it.<\/p>\n

\u201cSit down, Grandpa,\u201d I said. \u201cDinner\u2019s getting cold.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

Then at the chair.<\/p>\n

Then at the five children arguing over who would get the final dinner roll.<\/p>\n

He sat down.<\/p>\n

The house was loud.<\/p>\n

Nobody was bored.<\/p>\n

And this time, every one of us knew exactly why Walter was sitting at our table.<\/p>\n

But here\u2019s the real question: If someone finally gave you the answers you had spent your entire life wanting, only for you to discover they had deliberately waited years to reveal them, what would be harder to process\u2014the truth itself, or the years they chose to keep it from you?<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For two years, our elderly neighbor had shared meals at our table, spent time with our five children, and responded to \u201cGrandpa\u201d…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":3653,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12947","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12947","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12947"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12947\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12948,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12947\/revisions\/12948"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3653"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12947"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12947"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12947"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}