The Washing Machine That Changed Everything
\nBeing a single dad to twins isn\u2019t easy. Every day feels like a marathon, and life seems to love throwing me curveballs. But nothing\u2014absolutely nothing\u2014prepared me for what I found hidden inside a secondhand washing machine.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m 34, a single father to two beautiful three-year-old girls, Bella and Lily. Their mom left us when they were just babies. One morning she looked me in the eye and said, \u201cI\u2019m not cut out for diapers and midnight feedings.\u201d<\/p>\n
I begged her to stay. \u201cWe can figure it out together,\u201d I said, desperate. But she just shook her head, packed a small bag, and walked out the door. She didn\u2019t even bother to call or help with child support afterward.<\/p>\n
For a while, I waited, thinking she\u2019d come back. But she never did. So, I did what any parent would\u2014I learned how to survive.<\/p>\n
I found a permanent remote IT job, so I could work while taking care of the girls. I\u2019d type away on my laptop during their nap times, late at night, or early in the morning before the sun came up. Coffee became my best friend, and sleep\u2026 well, that became a stranger.<\/p>\n
But the twins came first, always. Even when I was exhausted, I\u2019d remind myself, They need me.<\/p>\n
And for a while, we managed. Life wasn\u2019t perfect, but we had a rhythm. Until one year\u2014everything fell apart all at once.<\/p>\n
You know that saying, \u201cWhen it rains, it pours\u201d? Yeah. That was my life.<\/p>\n
First, the daycare Bella and Lily attended suddenly closed after a COVID exposure. No warning\u2014just a notice saying, \u201cClosed indefinitely.\u201d That meant I had to stay home with the girls 24\/7 while still trying to work.<\/p>\n
Then, my company \u201crestructured,\u201d which was corporate talk for cutting my pay by 20%. While I was still trying to figure out how we\u2019d manage, my mom\u2014my only real support\u2014was diagnosed with a heart condition. She needed surgery, and Medicare wouldn\u2019t cover all of it.<\/p>\n
I thought, Surely, that\u2019s the worst of it.<\/p>\n
Nope. Within weeks, my rent went up. And then, to top everything off, my washing machine decided to die on me.<\/p>\n
Now, anyone who\u2019s had toddlers knows\u2014laundry isn\u2019t just a chore, it\u2019s survival. Between potty-training accidents, sticky fingers, and yogurt disasters, it\u2019s a daily war zone.<\/p>\n
For two days, I tried washing everything by hand in the bathtub. My fingers turned red and raw, my back screamed, and I still couldn\u2019t keep up.<\/p>\n
When a repairman came to look at the old machine, he shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis thing\u2019s in bad shape,\u201d he said.
\nI asked, \u201cBut can you fix it?\u201d
\nHe hesitated. \u201cHonestly, it\u2019ll cost you more than it\u2019s worth. You\u2019d be better off getting a secondhand one.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gave me a number of someone who could buy the broken one for scrap.<\/p>\n
That night, I kept washing by hand. On the third day, my hands cracked and started bleeding.
\n\u201cDaddy, your hand is red with blood,\u201d Bella said, wide-eyed.
\nLily saw it, turned pale, and threw up on her clothes. That was it\u2014I gave up.<\/p>\n
I strapped the twins into their car seats and whispered, \u201cLet\u2019s hope we find something cheap, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
We drove to a secondhand appliance shop, the kind with mismatched fridges outside and a huge sign that said \u201cNO REFUNDS.\u201d Inside, there were rows of used washing machines\u2014some dented, some barely hanging on.<\/p>\n
As I was crouched, checking out an old Whirlpool, I heard a soft voice behind me.
\n\u201cThey\u2019re adorable. Twins?\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned and saw an older woman, maybe late sixties, with gray hair tied in a neat bun and wearing a floral blouse. Her eyes were kind\u2014warm in a way that instantly made me feel seen.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d I said with a tired smile. \u201cDouble trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughed softly. \u201cWhere\u2019s Mom today? Or is it Daddy\u2019s special day with the little ones?\u201d<\/p>\n
My throat tightened. I hated that question. But something about her made me answer honestly. \u201cNo mom. It\u2019s just me and them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her smile faded into something gentler. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. That must be hard.\u201d<\/p>\n
I shrugged. \u201cSome days more than others. But we\u2019re managing.\u201d<\/p>\n
She touched the twins\u2019 stroller lightly and said, \u201cYou\u2019re doing a good job. Don\u2019t forget that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d I said, feeling oddly comforted.<\/p>\n
As she walked away, she called over her shoulder, \u201cYou might want to look at that Samsung machine in the corner. I think you\u2019ll like it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded, \u201cThanks!\u201d<\/p>\n
After talking with another customer about machine brands, I decided to take her advice. The Samsung looked worn, but solid. The salesman promised it \u201cstill spins.\u201d For $120 cash, I took the gamble.<\/p>\n
A stranger I\u2019d chatted with helped me load it into my beat-up Ford.<\/p>\n
When I got home, my neighbor helped me drag the broken washer out and bring the new one in. I hooked it up while the twins played with blocks in the living room. I couldn\u2019t sleep without knowing if it worked, so I loaded the first pile of dirty clothes and hit the button.<\/p>\n
Nothing happened.<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat,\u201d I muttered.<\/p>\n
I opened the drum to check, and that\u2019s when I saw it\u2014a small cardboard box wedged inside.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the\u2014\u201d I murmured, trying to pull it out. On top was a folded note glued to it. In elegant cursive, it read:<\/p>\n
\u201cFor you and your children. \u2014M\u201d<\/p>\n
Confused, I tore open the box. Inside were two house keys on a ring and a printed address. My stomach flipped.<\/p>\n
The woman at the store\u2014could it be her?<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy, what is it?\u201d Lily asked.
\nI stared at the keys. \u201cI\u2026 I don\u2019t know yet, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n
That night, I barely slept. By morning, I\u2019d made up my mind\u2014I needed to see where the address led.<\/p>\n
After breakfast, I packed the twins in the car and followed the GPS for an hour, out to the edge of town. The road turned quiet, lined with tall oak trees.<\/p>\n
Then I saw it\u2014a small white house with green shutters. The grass was tall, but the porch looked strong. A faded For Sale sign leaned against the fence.<\/p>\n
Bella asked, \u201cWhose house is this, Daddy?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, my love. Wait here, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
I locked the car and walked to the door, feeling like a thief even though I wasn\u2019t doing anything wrong. I slipped the key into the lock\u2014it turned easily.<\/p>\n
Inside, it smelled faintly of lavender and dust. The place was fully furnished\u2014a couch, a dining table, even framed pictures on the wall.<\/p>\n
I stood there frozen. The house wasn\u2019t abandoned\u2014it was waiting.<\/p>\n
I brought the twins inside. Every room was furnished. The fridge was full. And then, on the kitchen counter, I spotted another note.<\/p>\n
It read:<\/p>\n
\u201cThis house belonged to my sister. She passed away last year. She always wanted children but could never have them. I think she\u2019d like knowing her home was full of life again. Take care of it. Take care of the twins. It\u2019s yours now. \u2014M.\u201d<\/p>\n
My knees went weak. Tears filled my eyes. Someone had just given us a home.<\/p>\n
A few days later, I couldn\u2019t shake the feeling that I had to thank her\u2014to find \u201cM.\u201d<\/p>\n
So I went back to the store. The guy behind the counter, Jim, looked up from his catalog when I walked in.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d I said. \u201cDo you know the older lady I was talking to last week? Gray hair, floral blouse, kind eyes?\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded. \u201cYou mean Margaret?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah! Do you know how I can reach her?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jim reached under the counter and handed me a folded slip of paper. \u201cShe told me you\u2019d come back. Said to give you this.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart pounded as I opened it. It was her full name, address, and one line written in the same graceful handwriting:<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes people just need a nudge.\u201d<\/p>\n
A week later, I knocked on her door. She opened it, smiling softly. \u201cI wondered when you\u2019d come.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was choking up. \u201cWhy did you do this for us?\u201d<\/p>\n
She took my arm gently. \u201cBecause once, a stranger did it for me. I was young, broke, and lost. A woman let me live in her house rent-free until I could stand again. I promised that if I ever got the chance, I\u2019d pay it forward.\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t hold it anymore. I cried right there on her doorstep. She hugged me like a mother.<\/p>\n
Inside, over coffee, I asked, \u201cHow did you even put the keys in the washer?\u201d<\/p>\n
Margaret smiled. \u201cYou were busy with the girls and talking to that other man. I slipped them in then. I\u2019d been carrying those keys for months, waiting for the right person. When I saw you, I just\u2026 knew.\u201d<\/p>\n
It\u2019s been six months now. The twins each have their own rooms. My mom is recovering from surgery, resting in the guest room Margaret told us to make for her.<\/p>\n
Sometimes, I sit by the fireplace at night, listening to Bella and Lily giggling down the hall. I think about how close I was to giving up\u2014and how one stranger in a floral blouse noticed a tired dad in a thrift store\u2026 and decided to change his life forever.<\/p>\n
Home \u00bb Lifestyle \u00bb My 12-Year-Old Son Saved All Summer for a Memorial to His Friend Who Died of Cancer \u2013 Then a Fire Destroyed It All<\/p>\n
My 12-Year-Old Son Saved All Summer for a Memorial to His Friend Who Died of Cancer \u2013 Then a Fire Destroyed It All
\nPicture of Allison Lewis
\nBy Allison Lewis
\nPublished on 10\/05\/2025
\nReviewed by Lianne Mathews<\/p>\n
Share this:<\/p>\n
The Boy Who Turned Grief Into Light
\nThe night my 12-year-old son came home from his best friend\u2019s funeral, he didn\u2019t say a single word.<\/p>\n
He just sat on the floor, clutching a worn baseball glove like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. I didn\u2019t know then that his grief would turn into a mission\u2014one that would touch more lives than either of us could imagine.<\/p>\n
I still remember the day everything shifted. It was a gloomy Tuesday in April. The sky was too gray for spring, too cold for comfort.<\/p>\n
Usually, Caleb would come home bursting through the door yelling, \u201cMom, I\u2019m starving!\u201d or complaining about homework or cracking a dumb joke that made me laugh even when I didn\u2019t want to. But that day, he just walked in from Louis\u2019s funeral\u2026 quiet.<\/p>\n
No backpack drop.
\nNo \u201cMom, what\u2019s for dinner?\u201d
\nNo Fortnite headset flying across the couch.<\/p>\n
Just silence.<\/p>\n
He went straight to his room and gently closed the door. Not slammed\u2014just softly closed, like he didn\u2019t want to disturb the world anymore.<\/p>\n
I let him be for an hour. Then two. Then three. Around 7:30 p.m., I finally knocked. No answer.<\/p>\n
I pushed the door open, heart tight. He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, holding Louis\u2019s old baseball glove in his lap. His eyes were distant, his small fingers tracing the stitches.<\/p>\n
\u201cBaby?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t even look up. That silence terrified me more than any scream ever could.<\/p>\n
You have to understand \u2014 Caleb and Louis weren\u2019t just friends. They were a set.
\nHalloween? Always Mario and Luigi.
\nLittle League? Always the same team.<\/p>\n
They did sleepovers, movie marathons, and Minecraft builds so complicated I swore they could have worked for NASA.<\/p>\n
Their laughter used to fill every corner of our apartment. But after Louis died\u2026 it was like someone turned off the sound.<\/p>\n
And me? I was just a 40-year-old single mom trying to hold everything together with duct tape, late-night coffee, and a whole lot of pretending. I didn\u2019t know what to say to fix it.<\/p>\n
We tried therapy twice. It helped a little. Caleb started eating again, the nightmares faded. But grief\u2026 grief doesn\u2019t walk in a straight line. It wanders, stumbles, and sneaks back in when you think it\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n
Then one evening in June, while we were eating dinner, it happened.<\/p>\n
I was half-distracted by a pile of overdue bills when Caleb put down his fork and said quietly, \u201cMom\u2026 Louis deserves a headstone.\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze mid-bite. \u201cWhat do you mean, honey?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shrugged but his voice was steady. \u201cA real one. Not just a little plaque in the grass. Something beautiful. Something people will see when they visit him. And maybe\u2026 like a night. A memorial night. Where everyone remembers him.\u201d<\/p>\n
I swear I almost cried right there into my casserole.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d I said carefully, trying not to choke on my own emotions. \u201cWe can look into it.\u201d<\/p>\n
But Caleb shook his head. \u201cNo. I want to do it. I\u2019ve got birthday money from Grandma. And I can mow lawns, wash cars, walk dogs\u2014whatever. I don\u2019t need anything this summer anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a spark in his eyes again. Not the dull, heavy grief. Something new. Purpose.<\/p>\n
And for the first time in months, I saw a glimpse of my boy again.<\/p>\n
That summer was unlike any other.<\/p>\n
While other kids biked to the ice cream shop or chased the jingle of the ice cream truck, Caleb was out under the hot sun, pushing a rusty lawnmower up and down Mrs. Doyle\u2019s yard. Sweat dripped down his nose, his sneakers green with grass stains.<\/p>\n
\u201cTake a break, honey!\u201d Mrs. Doyle would call from her porch, handing him lemonade.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m good!\u201d Caleb would shout back, wiping his forehead. \u201cThree more lawns this week and I\u2019ll hit $400!\u201d<\/p>\n
He wasn\u2019t exaggerating\u2014he was relentless.<\/p>\n
He walked Mrs. Henderson\u2019s giant husky, Titan, every morning, even when Titan nearly yanked his shoulder out of its socket chasing squirrels.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe tried to kill me today,\u201d Caleb joked one day, limping into the kitchen. \u201cBut it\u2019s okay\u2014four more walks and I can afford the engraving.\u201d<\/p>\n
He raked leaves in August.<\/p>\n
When I asked why, he grinned and said, \u201cThat big maple on 6th Street. It\u2019s shedding early. And Mr. Greene\u2019s back is out again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Weekends were for car washes. He made a cardboard sign, stood by the mailbox with his bucket and sponge like a one-kid pit crew. Five dollars a wash. No tips accepted.<\/p>\n
Every time he finished a job, he came running inside, cheeks flushed and hands dirty.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom!\u201d he\u2019d shout breathlessly. \u201c$370 now! That\u2019s almost halfway!\u201d<\/p>\n
He kept all his money in an old Skechers shoebox in his closet, guarded like treasure. One night I found him sitting cross-legged on the floor, bills spread around him, counting them one by one.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t want to buy anything for yourself?\u201d I asked softly.<\/p>\n
He looked up, eyes full of quiet certainty. \u201cWhy? What could I buy that\u2019s better than this?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t have an answer.<\/p>\n
But life\u2026 life has a cruel sense of timing.<\/p>\n
One cold night in early September, I was in the kitchen whisking hot cocoa when I smelled it \u2014 smoke. Thick, sharp, terrifying smoke.<\/p>\n
Then the fire alarm screamed.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom?\u201d Caleb\u2019s voice echoed from upstairs.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet Lily! OUTSIDE! NOW!\u201d<\/p>\n
I dropped the mugs and ran. The fire spread too fast. It tore through the laundry room, devouring curtains, walls\u2014everything.<\/p>\n
We barely made it out alive. Standing barefoot on the front lawn, wrapped in a neighbor\u2019s blanket, we watched our home collapse into glowing ash.<\/p>\n
The next morning, they let us back in. The smell of burnt plastic and sadness filled the air. Caleb bolted upstairs, his sneakers crunching on glass.<\/p>\n
Then came his scream.<\/p>\n
\u201cNO! NO, NO, NO!\u201d<\/p>\n
I ran up. He was on his knees in front of the blackened mess of his closet. The shoebox\u2014his shoebox\u2014was gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll of it,\u201d he sobbed, fists clenched. \u201cMom, it\u2019s gone. I worked all summer and promised Louis I\u2019d do this. I promised.\u201d<\/p>\n
I knelt beside him and held him tight. He buried his face in my shoulder, crying with quiet anger. There was nothing I could say. Sometimes, the world just takes\u2014no matter how hard you fight.<\/p>\n
We moved into my sister\u2019s apartment, all three of us sharing a pullout couch. We dealt with insurance, hand-me-downs, and long days that felt colorless.<\/p>\n
Caleb drifted through them like a ghost.<\/p>\n
Then, one week later, a strange letter arrived.<\/p>\n
No stamp. No return address. Just my name written neatly on a white envelope.<\/p>\n
Inside:<\/p>\n
\u201cMeet me at the old house near the market Friday at 7 p.m. Bring Caleb.\u201d<\/p>\n
No signature. Nothing else.<\/p>\n
I almost threw it away, but something about it felt deliberate.<\/p>\n
Friday night came. The air was cool, the sky a bruised blue. Caleb sat beside me in the car, twisting his hoodie cuffs.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sure about this?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
He exhaled. \u201cNope.\u201d<\/p>\n
When we pulled into the lot behind the old Market Hall, my breath caught \u2014 the parking lot was packed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis can\u2019t be right,\u201d I murmured.<\/p>\n
But when we stepped inside, I stopped dead.<\/p>\n
The whole place glowed. String lights hung from the rafters like stars. Tables were covered in white cloth. Candles flickered, and balloons swayed gently above smiling faces.<\/p>\n
Then I saw them \u2014 neighbors, teachers, church members, even Louis\u2019s mom, Maria, standing near the front in a navy dress, already crying.<\/p>\n
When Caleb walked in, the room burst into applause.<\/p>\n
He froze. \u201cMom?\u201d he whispered. \u201cWhat\u2019s happening?\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I could answer, a man stepped onto the small stage \u2014 tall, gray at the temples, voice shaking.<\/p>\n
It took me a moment to recognize him. Louis\u2019s uncle. The one who\u2019d moved away years ago.<\/p>\n
\u201cCaleb,\u201d he began, voice trembling, \u201cyour love for my nephew reached me. I heard how you worked all summer to honor him, how you lost it all in the fire\u2026 but love like that doesn\u2019t burn. It spreads.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded to someone backstage. A white cloth was pulled away \u2014 revealing a beautiful granite headstone, polished and engraved with silver letters. Louis\u2019s name, and beside it, a tiny baseball bat.<\/p>\n
Caleb\u2019s mouth fell open. \u201cFor Louis?\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n
The uncle smiled. \u201cFor Louis. Because of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then, one by one, people came forward \u2014 neighbors, classmates, strangers \u2014 laying envelopes into a wicker basket at Caleb\u2019s feet.<\/p>\n
Later, when we counted, it totaled over $12,000.<\/p>\n
The headstone was already paid for. The rest was for whatever came next.<\/p>\n
Caleb looked at me, tears streaming. \u201cMom\u2026 what do we do with the rest?\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I could answer, Maria stepped forward, pulled him into her arms, and whispered through her sobs, \u201cYou already know what to do, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n
And he did.<\/p>\n
He wiped his eyes, looked up, and said softly, \u201cLouis wanted to be a baseball player. Can we start something\u2026 like a baseball scholarship? For kids who can\u2019t afford to play?\u201d<\/p>\n
The room exploded in applause.<\/p>\n
The memorial night was held under a sky full of stars, in the park behind the church. Hundreds of candles glowed in jars, lining the path. Photos of Louis hung everywhere \u2014 muddy uniforms, missing teeth, goofy grins. Caleb was in every one of them.<\/p>\n
There were tears, laughter, and stories that made everyone remember why life was beautiful even when it hurt.<\/p>\n
Maria spoke last. Her voice trembled as she said, \u201cHe always said he wanted to be remembered. You all made sure he is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then we all walked to the cemetery, where the new headstone stood gleaming. Beneath Louis\u2019s name, the engraving read:<\/p>\n
\u201cForever on the field, forever in our hearts.\u201d<\/p>\n
Caleb stood there silently, one hand resting on the stone, the other clutching Louis\u2019s glove like gold.<\/p>\n
Three months later, another letter came \u2014 this time from the Town Council.<\/p>\n
I opened it, expecting something boring about property repairs. Instead, my heart stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause of your son\u2019s efforts and vision, the council has voted unanimously to match the community\u2019s donations and establish The Louis Memorial Youth Baseball Fund.\u201d<\/p>\n
Uniforms, equipment, fees \u2014 all covered. Kids who couldn\u2019t afford to play now could. Because of Caleb.<\/p>\n
I ran upstairs, shaking. \u201cCaleb!\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked up from his bed, still holding Louis\u2019s glove.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey really did it?\u201d he asked quietly after reading the letter.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey really did.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled \u2014 a real smile. The first one in months. \u201cMom,\u201d he said softly, \u201cI think Louis would be proud.\u201d<\/p>\n
And I knew he was right.<\/p>\n
A week later, another white envelope arrived. No stamp. No address. Just like before.<\/p>\n
Inside was one simple line, written in the same careful handwriting:<\/p>\n
\u201cKeep going, kid. You\u2019ve got no idea how many lives you\u2019re going to change.\u201d<\/p>\n
Caleb read it slowly, folded it neatly, and whispered with a small grin, \u201cThen I guess I better get to work.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Washing Machine That Changed Everything Being a single dad to twins isn\u2019t easy. Every day feels like a marathon, and life seems to love throwing me curveballs. But nothing\u2014absolutely nothing\u2014prepared me for what I found hidden inside a secondhand washing machine. I\u2019m 34, a single father to two beautiful three-year-old girls, Bella and Lily. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-33874","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33874","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=33874"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33874\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":33875,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33874\/revisions\/33875"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=33874"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=33874"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=33874"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}