{"id":822,"date":"2025-12-04T12:18:51","date_gmt":"2025-12-04T12:18:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/?p=822"},"modified":"2025-12-04T12:18:51","modified_gmt":"2025-12-04T12:18:51","slug":"i-asked-my-grandma-to-be-my-prom-date-because-she-never-went-to-prom-when-my-stepmom-found-out-she-did-something-unforgivable","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/?p=822","title":{"rendered":"I Asked My Grandma to be My Prom Date Because She Never Went to Prom \u2013 When My Stepmom Found Out, She Did Something Unforgivable"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Some people spend their whole lives wondering what they missed. I wanted to give my grandma the one night she never got to have. I wanted her to be my prom date and go to prom with me. But when my stepmom found out, she made sure we\u2019d both remember it for all the wrong reasons.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Growing up without a mom changes you in ways most people don\u2019t understand. Mine died when I was seven, and for a while, the world felt like it had stopped making sense. But then there was Grandma June.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She wasn\u2019t just my grandmother. She was everything. Every scraped knee, every bad day at school, and every moment I needed someone to tell me it would be okay\u2026 that was her.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A little boy kissing his grandmother on her cheek | Source: Freepik<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Every scraped knee, every bad day at school, and every moment I needed someone\u2026 she was there. School pickups became our routine. Lunches arrived with little notes tucked inside. Grandma taught me how to scramble eggs without burning them and sew a button back on when it popped off my shirt.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She became the mom I\u2019d lost, the best friend I needed when loneliness crept in, and the cheerleader who believed in me when I couldn\u2019t believe in myself.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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When I turned 10, Dad remarried my stepmom, Carla. I remember Grandma trying so hard to make her feel welcome. She baked pies from scratch, the kind that made the whole house smell like cinnamon and butter. She even gave Carla a quilt she\u2019d spent months making, with these intricate patterns that must\u2019ve taken forever.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla looked at it like Grandma had handed her a bag of trash.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I was young, but I wasn\u2019t blind. I saw the way Carla\u2019s nose wrinkled whenever Grandma came around. I heard the tight, fake politeness in her voice. And once she moved into our house, everything changed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"An<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla was obsessed with appearances. Designer purses that cost more than our monthly groceries. Fake eyelashes that made her look like she was always surprised. Fresh manicures every single week, each one a different shade of expensive.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She\u2019d talk constantly about \u201cleveling up\u201d our family, like we were some kind of video game character she was trying to upgrade.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But when it came to me, she was ice cold.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYour grandma spoils you,\u201d she\u2019d say, her lip curling. \u201cNo wonder you\u2019re so soft.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Or my personal favorite: \u201cIf you want to amount to anything, you need to stop spending so much time with her. That house is dragging you down.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma lived two blocks away\u2026 walking distance. But Carla acted like she was on another planet.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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When I started high school, it got worse. Carla wanted to be seen as the perfect stepmom. She\u2019d post pictures of us at family dinners with captions gushing about how blessed she was. But in real life, she barely acknowledged I existed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She loved the image. But she didn\u2019t love people.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A woman taking a selfie | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cMust be exhausting,\u201d I muttered once, watching her take the same photo of her coffee 30 different times.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Dad just sighed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Senior year rolled around faster than I expected. Suddenly everyone was talking about prom. Who they were asking, what color tux they were renting, and which limo company had the best deals.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I wasn\u2019t planning to go. I didn\u2019t have a girlfriend, and I hated fake social stuff. The whole thing felt like a performance I didn\u2019t want to be part of.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Then one night, Grandma and I were watching some old movie from the 1950s. One of those black-and-white films where everyone danced in circles and the music sounded like it came from another world. A prom scene came on, with couples spinning under paper stars, girls in poufy dresses and guys in suits that actually fit.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma smiled, but it was soft and distant.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cNever made it to mine,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cI had to work. My folks needed the money. Sometimes I wonder what it was like, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"Youngsters<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Youngsters dancing on the dance floor | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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She said it like it didn\u2019t matter anymore. Like it was just some old curiosity she\u2019d filed away decades ago.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But I saw something flicker in her eyes. Something sad, small, and buried deep.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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That\u2019s when it hit me.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cWell, you\u2019re going to mine,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She laughed, waving me off. \u201cOh, honey. Don\u2019t be ridiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI\u2019m dead serious,\u201d I told her, leaning forward. \u201cBe my date. You\u2019re the only person I want to go with anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Her eyes filled with tears so fast it startled me. \u201cEric, honey, you really mean that?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYeah,\u201d I grinned. \u201cConsider it payment for 16 years of packed lunches.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She hugged me so tightly I thought my ribs might crack.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I told Dad and Carla at dinner the next night. The moment the words left my mouth, they both froze. Dad\u2019s fork hovered halfway to his mouth. Carla stared at me like I\u2019d just announced I was dropping out of school to join the circus.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A person having their meal | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cPlease tell me you\u2019re kidding,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cNope,\u201d I said, stabbing a piece of chicken. \u201cAlready asked. Grandma\u2019s in.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla\u2019s voice climbed about three octaves. \u201cAre you out of your mind? After everything I\u2019ve sacrificed for you?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I looked up at her\u2026 and waited.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI\u2019ve been your mother since you were 10 years old, Eric. I stepped into that role when no one else could. I gave up my freedom to raise you. And this is the thanks I get?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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That line hit me like a fist to the chest. Not because it hurt\u2026 but because it was such a blatant lie.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYou haven\u2019t raised me,\u201d I snapped. \u201cGrandma has. You\u2019ve lived in this house for six years. She\u2019s been showing up for me since day one.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla\u2019s face turned scarlet. \u201cYou\u2019re being cruel. Do you have any idea how this looks? Taking some elderly woman to prom like it\u2019s a joke? People will laugh at you.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"An<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

An angry woman | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Dad tried to step in. \u201cCarla, it\u2019s his choice\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cHis choice is wrong!\u201d She slammed her palm on the table. \u201cThis is embarrassing. For him, this family, and everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I stood up. \u201cI\u2019m taking Grandma. End of discussion.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla stormed out, throwing words like \u201cungrateful\u201d and \u201cimage\u201d over her shoulder.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Dad just looked exhausted.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma didn\u2019t have much money. She still worked two shifts a week at the diner downtown, the kind of place where the coffee\u2019s always burnt and the regulars know your name. She clipped coupons like it was a competitive sport.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But she decided to make her own dress.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"Grayscale<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Grayscale shot of an older woman cleaning the floor | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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She pulled out her old sewing machine from the attic, the same one she\u2019d used to make my mom\u2019s Halloween costumes when she was a kid. Every night after dinner, she worked on it. I\u2019d sit in the corner of her living room doing homework while she hummed old country songs and guided the fabric under the needle.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The dress was a soft blue satin piece with lace sleeves and tiny pearl buttons down the back. It took her weeks.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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When she finally tried it on the night before prom, I swear I almost cried.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cGrandma, you look incredible,\u201d I told her.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She blushed, smoothing the fabric over her hips. \u201cOh, you\u2019re just being sweet. I\u2019m praying the seams hold when we dance.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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We both laughed. It was raining outside, so she decided to leave the dress at my house so it wouldn\u2019t get ruined on the walk home.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She carefully hung it in my closet, running her fingers over the lace one last time.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI\u2019ll come by at four tomorrow to get ready,\u201d she said, kissing my forehead.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A blue satin gown on a hanger | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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The next morning, Carla was acting weird. She seemed too nice and chipper. She smiled at breakfast and told me how \u201ctouching\u201d it was that I was doing this for Grandma.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I didn\u2019t trust it for a second. But I kept quiet.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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At four o\u2019clock sharp, Grandma arrived. She had her makeup bag and a pair of white heels from the \u201980s she\u2019d polished until they gleamed. She went upstairs to change while I ironed my shirt in the kitchen.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Then I heard her scream. I took the stairs two at a time, my heart hammering.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma was standing in my doorway, holding the dress\u2026 or what was left of it. The skirt had been slashed into ribbons. The lace sleeves were shredded. And the blue satin looked like someone had taken a knife to it in a fit of rage.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She was shaking. \u201cMy dress. I don\u2019t\u2026 who could\u2019ve\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla appeared behind her, eyes wide with manufactured shock. \u201cWhat on earth? Did it get caught on something?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A dress in ruins | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I snapped. \u201cCut the act. You know exactly what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She blinked innocently. \u201cWhat are you implying?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYou\u2019ve wanted her gone since the second you moved in. Don\u2019t pretend you didn\u2019t do this.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla folded her arms, her mouth curving into a smirk. \u201cThat\u2019s quite an accusation. I\u2019ve been doing chores all day. Maybe June accidentally tore it herself.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma\u2019s eyes welled up. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, sweetheart. We can\u2019t fix it now. I\u2019ll stay home.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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That broke something inside me. I grabbed my phone and called Dylan, my best friend.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cDude, what\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cEmergency. I need a dress\u2026 for prom. Literally any dress you can find. Flowy. Shimmery. Anything decent\u2026 for my grandma.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A frantic young man talking on the phone | Source: Freepik<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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He showed up 20 minutes later with his sister Maya and three old gowns she\u2019d worn to school dances. One navy, one silver, and one dark green.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma kept protesting. \u201cEric, I can\u2019t borrow someone else\u2019s dress!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYes, you can,\u201d I said firmly. \u201cTonight\u2019s your night. We\u2019re making this happen.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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We pinned the straps. Maya clipped Grandma\u2019s pearls to the neckline. We touched up her curls and helped her into the navy gown.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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When she turned to look in the mirror, she smiled through her tears.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cShe would\u2019ve been so proud of you,\u201d she whispered, meaning my mom.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cThen let\u2019s make this count, Grandma.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"An<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

An older woman wearing a navy-blue gown | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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When we walked into the gym, the music actually stopped for a second. Then people started clapping. My friends cheered. Teachers pulled out their phones to take pictures.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The principal walked over and shook my hand. \u201cThis is what prom should be about. Well done!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma danced and laughed. She told everyone stories about growing up in a different era. My friends started chanting her name, and she ended up winning \u201cProm Queen\u201d by a landslide.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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For a few hours, everything felt perfect. And then I saw her.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla was standing near the door with her arms crossed, her face twisted in fury.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She stormed over and hissed under her breath. \u201cYou think you\u2019re clever? Making a spectacle out of this family?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Before I could answer, Grandma turned toward her. Calm. Graceful. And unbothered.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYou know, Carla,\u201d she said gently, \u201cyou keep thinking kindness means I\u2019m weak. That\u2019s why you\u2019ll never get what real love is.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla\u2019s face flushed red. \u201cHow dare\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"An<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

An alarmed woman | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma turned away and extended her hand to me. \u201cCome dance with me, honey.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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And we did.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Everyone clapped again while Carla disappeared into the parking lot.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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When we got home, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Carla\u2019s purse sat on the counter, but her car was gone. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, looking pale and drained.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cWhere\u2019d she go?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cSaid she needed something from the store.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Then her phone buzzed on the counter. Again. And again. She\u2019d left it behind.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Dad glanced at it, frowned, then picked it up. The screen was unlocked.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I\u2019ll never forget the way his face changed as he scrolled.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A shocked man holding a phone | Source: Freepik<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cOh my God!\u201d he whispered. He looked at me. \u201cShe\u2019s been texting her friend.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He turned the phone so I could see.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The message from Carla read:\u00a0\u201cTrust me, Eric will thank me someday. I kept him from making a fool of himself with that ugly old woman.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Her friend replied:\u00a0\u201cPlease tell me you didn\u2019t actually destroy the dress??\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla\u2019s response:\u00a0\u201cObviously I did. Someone had to put a stop to that train wreck. Took scissors to it while he was in the shower.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Dad set the phone down like it had stung him.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A few minutes later, Carla walked in, humming like nothing had happened.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Dad didn\u2019t yell. His voice was eerily calm.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI saw the texts.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Her smile evaporated. \u201cYou went through my phone?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYou destroyed her dress, humiliated my mother, and lied about being a parent to my son.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"An<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

An angry middle-aged man holding his phone | Source: Freepik<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Carla\u2019s eyes started to water, but nothing came out. \u201cSo you\u2019re picking them over your wife?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Dad\u2019s jaw tightened. \u201cI\u2019m picking basic human decency. Get out. Don\u2019t come back until I decide if I even want to look at you again.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I Took My 7-Year-Old to Buy Her First Day of School Outfit \u2013 A Saleswoman Shamed Us<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n<\/article>\n<\/div>\n<\/section>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cWhere am I supposed to go?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cFigure it out. I want you gone. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She grabbed her purse and left, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the pictures on the wall.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma sank into a chair, her hands trembling. \u201cShe wasn\u2019t jealous of me. She was jealous of something she could never understand.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Dad reached across the table and took her hand.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A sad older woman | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I woke up the next morning to the smell of pancakes. Grandma was at the stove, humming an old tune. Dad sat at the table with his coffee, looking quieter but somehow lighter.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He looked up. \u201cYou two were the best-dressed people there last night.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma chuckled. \u201cMaya\u2019s dress fit better than mine ever could have.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He smiled. \u201cYou both deserved more than what she gave you.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Then he stood, kissed Grandma\u2019s forehead, and said something I\u2019ll carry forever. \u201cThank you. For everything you did for him.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Later that week, someone from school posted a photo of Grandma and me at prom \u2014 me in my tux, her in the borrowed navy gown, both of us mid-laugh.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The caption said:\u00a0\u201cThis guy brought his grandma to prom because she never got to go. She stole the show.\u201d<\/strong><\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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It went viral with thousands of comments.\u00a0\u201cCrying.\u201d \u201cThis is beautiful.\u201d \u201cMore of this energy in the world.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A smiling young man holding his phone | Source: Freepik<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Grandma blushed when I showed her. \u201cI had no idea anyone would care.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cThey care,\u201d I said. \u201cYou showed them what matters.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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That weekend, we threw a \u201csecond prom\u201d in Grandma\u2019s backyard.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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We strung up lights, played Sinatra on a Bluetooth speaker, and invited a few close friends. Dad grilled burgers. Grandma wore the patched-up version of her original blue dress\u2026 the one she refused to let go.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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We danced on the grass until the stars came out.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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At one point, Grandma leaned close and whispered, \u201cThis feels more real than any ballroom ever could.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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

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\"Close-up<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Close-up shot of a smiling senior woman | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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True love doesn\u2019t roar, demand attention, or beg for applause. It shows up quietly in the corners of your life and stitches fabric late at night. It patches what\u2019s been torn and dances anyway, even when someone tries to ruin it.<\/strong><\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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That night, surrounded by the people who truly mattered, love got its moment. And nothing \u2014 not Carla\u2019s cruelty, not her jealousy, not anyone\u2019s judgment \u2014 could steal that from us.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Because real love doesn\u2019t need validation. It just shows up and shines.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A young man comforting and older person | Source: Freepik<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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If this story touched your heart, here\u2019s\u00a0another one<\/a>\u00a0about how a grandmother\u2019s token of love was destroyed over jealousy: I spent three months sewing my granddaughter\u2019s wedding dress, stitching in two decades of love. On her big day, I found it in shreds\u2026 and someone was about to regret crossing me.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to\u00a0<\/i>info@amomama.com<\/i><\/a>.<\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Some people spend their whole lives wondering what they missed. I wanted to give my grandma the one night she never got to have. I wanted her to be my … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-822","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/822","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=822"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/822\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":823,"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/822\/revisions\/823"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=822"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=822"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naekokozawa.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=822"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}