{"id":16950,"date":"2026-07-09T15:57:48","date_gmt":"2026-07-09T08:57:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/?p=16950"},"modified":"2026-07-09T15:57:48","modified_gmt":"2026-07-09T08:57:48","slug":"my-daughter-vanished-ten-years-ago-then-i-woke-up-to-find-our-swimming-pool-covered-with-hundreds-of-rubber-ducks-and-the-note-bound-to-the-biggest-one-made-me-scream","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/?p=16950","title":{"rendered":"My Daughter Vanished Ten Years Ago \u2013 Then I Woke Up to Find Our Swimming Pool Covered with Hundreds of Rubber Ducks, and the Note Bound to the Biggest One Made Me Scream"},"content":{"rendered":"

Ten years after Emma vanished at the pond, I woke to hundreds of rubber ducks covering our pool. The note tied to the biggest promised I could see my daughter again, but the address did not lead to a grave, a kidnapper, or a miracle. It led somewhere worse: back to the child grief erased.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

The neighbor’s dog started barking at 6:03.<\/p>\n

Not the usual warning bark at a squirrel.<\/p>\n

This was frantic.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

The neighbor’s dog started barking at 6:03.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I was already awake.<\/p>\n

I always was on that date.<\/p>\n

The tenth anniversary of Emma’s disappearance had sat with me all night while Roger slept in the guest room down the hall.<\/p>\n

We still shared a house.<\/p>\n

The same last name.<\/p>\n

Not much else.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

I always was on that date.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Some mornings, we passed in the kitchen like tenants. He poured coffee. I rinsed a mug.<\/p>\n

Neither of us asked where the other was going anymore.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I always went to the pond.<\/p>\n

Roger always went somewhere else.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

I always went to the pond.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

***<\/p>\n

I tied my robe and walked past Emma’s bedroom. The door was closed. I had dusted the frame the day before without touching the knob.<\/p>\n

Outside, the barking kept going.<\/p>\n

I opened the back door… and my next breath died in my throat.<\/p>\n

Our swimming pool was covered with rubber ducks.<\/p>\n

Hundreds of them.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

My next breath died in my throat.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Yellow ducks drifted against pirate ducks.<\/p>\n

Tiny blue ones disappeared beneath oversized ducks wearing sunglasses.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Some wore crowns, helmets, bow ties, and ridiculous little hats.<\/p>\n

They floated so tightly the water almost vanished.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

They floated so tightly.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

In the center was one larger duck.<\/p>\n

A red ribbon was tied around its neck.<\/p>\n

A folded note hung from it.<\/p>\n

I stepped outside barefoot.<\/p>\n

I walked into the shallow end, robe and all, pushing ducks aside until I reached the big one.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

A folded note hung from it.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

The note was damp at the edges.<\/p>\n

I unfolded it, and everything in me went terrifyingly still.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“You blamed the wrong person for ten years.”<\/strong><\/i><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

My first thought was Roger.<\/p>\n

My second was that someone knew.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

My first thought was Roger.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Below it was another line.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“You still have one chance to see your daughter again.”<\/strong><\/i><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Then an address.<\/p>\n

I screamed so loudly that Mrs. Palmer next door came running across the lawn in slippers.<\/p>\n

I called the police.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

I screamed so loudly.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

***<\/p>\n

Emma was eight when she vanished.<\/p>\n

It was a Sunday.<\/p>\n

Roger had taken her to the pond at the edge of our neighborhood with a paper bag of breadcrumbs. It had been their ritual every weekend.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Ducks for Roger. Butterflies for Emma.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Emma was eight when she vanished.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

She carried her butterfly field guide everywhere, even to feed ducks, because she never knew when something with wings might appear.<\/p>\n

That morning, she had stopped on our porch steps because a white butterfly landed on the railing.<\/p>\n

“We have to wait,” she told Roger. “It’s deciding.”<\/p>\n

He waited.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“We have to wait.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Roger came home alone that day.<\/p>\n

He stood in the doorway, wet to the knees, shaking so badly he could not form a full sentence.<\/p>\n

Then he started crying.<\/p>\n

When he finally spoke, he said, “Emma was right there. I turned around for one second. She was just gone.”<\/p>\n

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

“Emma was right there.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

***<\/p>\n

The search lasted three weeks.<\/p>\n

Divers went into the pond.<\/p>\n

Volunteers walked through reeds.<\/p>\n

Neighbors taped flyers to poles until rain softened Emma’s smiling face.<\/p>\n

Nothing.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Divers went into the pond.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

***<\/p>\n

Six months later, a detective told me the pond’s current ran deeper than it looked. Small children slipped. Sometimes water kept what it took.<\/p>\n

I never accepted it.<\/p>\n

I drove past that pond every day for ten years.<\/p>\n

At first, Roger came with me. He stood beside the reeds with his hands in his pockets while I searched the same water, the same mud, and the same impossible silence.<\/p>\n

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

I never accepted it.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Then he stopped coming.<\/p>\n

That was when the house began separating around us.<\/p>\n

He moved into the guest room after I said I could still smell pond water on his jacket.<\/p>\n

I never apologized.<\/p>\n

Roger never moved back.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

He stopped coming.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

***<\/p>\n

The memory had never truly left me, and now, the malicious note on the rubber duck made the old dread claw its way back to the surface.<\/p>\n

Police followed us to the address that morning.<\/p>\n

Roger drove. I sat beside him holding the note.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

The memory had never truly left me.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

The address was not a house.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

It was Emma’s old elementary school.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Whitaker, Emma’s former principal, waited at the side entrance with a ring of keys.<\/p>\n

Her hair was silver now.<\/p>\n

Her eyes were the same careful gray.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

The address was not a house.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“Where is she?” I asked before anyone greeted anyone.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Whitaker did not pretend to misunderstand.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“Come with me.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

She led us through a hallway smelling of floor wax and crayons. Roger followed.<\/p>\n

At the first turn, he slowed before she did.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“Where is she?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

At the second, he reached for a door and stopped himself.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Mrs. Whitaker noticed.<\/p>\n

So did I.<\/p>\n

We passed a bulletin board covered with children’s drawings of monarch butterflies. One had a crooked orange wing and the words,\u00a0We helped him fly written underneath.<\/i><\/p>\n

Roger looked at it too long.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Mrs. Whitaker noticed.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“Roger,” Mrs. Whitaker said softly, “the room is ready.”<\/p>\n

Roger.<\/p>\n

Not Sir.<\/p>\n

Roger.<\/i><\/p>\n

Something old and cold moved through me.<\/p>\n

At the end of the building, she unlocked a small room behind the playground.<\/p>\n

Sunlight filled it.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Something old and cold moved through me.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

Milkweed plants lined the windows. Glass butterfly habitats sat on low tables. Children’s journals rested in plastic bins. A tiny monarch caterpillar moved slowly along a leaf.<\/p>\n

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

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“What is this?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“The nature room,” Mrs. Whitaker said.<\/p>\n

“Where is my daughter?”<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

I stared at it.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Roger stood behind me, too close and somehow too far away.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Whitaker opened one habitat and gently adjusted a leaf before closing it again. Roger reached for the spray bottle on the shelf without looking, then let his hand fall.<\/p>\n

He knew where things were.<\/p>\n

He knew this room.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

He knew where things were.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

I turned on him.<\/p>\n

“How do you know this room?”<\/p>\n

Mrs. Whitaker answered.<\/p>\n

“Roger has volunteered here every spring for ten years.”<\/p>\n

The words hung there.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“How do you know this room?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“You came here?” I asked.<\/p>\n

Roger nodded once.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“Every spring?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Another nod.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Whitaker opened a cabinet and removed a box of laminated cards.<\/p>\n

“Emma adored butterflies,” she said. “A few weeks before she disappeared, she told her class she wanted to become ‘the lady who knows every butterfly.'”<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“You came here?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

I remembered the exact tone.<\/p>\n

Serious.<\/p>\n

Proud.<\/p>\n

Emma had refused to step on ants because “they had errands.”<\/p>\n

Once, she made us wait twenty minutes on a sidewalk because a butterfly had landed on a dandelion and she said it was still deciding.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

I remembered the exact tone.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Another memory rose.<\/p>\n

Emma kneeling in the yard with dirt on both knees, whispering to a moth with a torn wing.<\/p>\n

I had forgotten those things.<\/p>\n

Not all at once.<\/p>\n

Little by little.<\/p>\n

The pond had swallowed them first.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

I had forgotten those things.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

Roger walked to a metal cabinet near the back wall and opened it.<\/p>\n

Inside, resting on the top shelf, was Emma’s butterfly field guide.<\/p>\n

Dog-eared.<\/p>\n

Mud-stained.<\/p>\n

The spine taped.<\/p>\n

A faded yellow flower pressed beneath the cracked plastic cover.<\/p>\n

I had not seen it since the day she vanished.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

I had not seen it.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“You had it?” I asked.<\/p>\n

“I found it in my truck after the search,” Roger admitted. “Under the passenger seat.”<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“You kept it from me.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“I tried to show you, Edith.” He looked toward the window. “Every time I tried, one of us was still standing at the pond.”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I wanted to say he was wrong.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“I found it in my truck after the search.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

But I saw myself as I had been all those years.<\/p>\n

Driving to the pond after work.<\/p>\n

Sitting in the car until dark.<\/p>\n

Coming home with mud on my shoes and nothing to say.<\/p>\n

Roger had not hidden Emma from me.<\/p>\n

I had been looking only where she disappeared.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Roger had not hidden Emma from me.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I pointed toward the note in the officer’s hand.<\/p>\n

“Why the ducks?”<\/p>\n

Roger rubbed one thumb along the cabinet door.<\/p>\n

“The first one was from a pharmacy.”<\/p>\n

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

“When?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“A few weeks after we stopped searching.”<\/p>\n

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

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“Why the ducks?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“It was yellow. Plain. Hanging near the checkout,” Roger said. “Emma would have squeezed it until it squeaked and laughed until everyone stared.”<\/p>\n

He gave a small, tired smile.<\/p>\n

“So I bought it.”<\/p>\n

Mrs. Whitaker lowered her eyes.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“So I bought it.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“Then I saw another a few months later. A pirate duck at a gas station. Then a butterfly duck at a museum gift shop. A firefighter duck. A duck with a tiny crown.”<\/p>\n

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

“Sometimes I bought two in a week. Sometimes I didn’t see one for months. But whenever I did, it felt like Emma had pointed it out.”<\/p>\n

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

“Sometimes I bought two in a week.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

The ducks in our pool were ten years of Roger finding tiny pieces of Emma in places I had walked past.<\/p>\n

“Why put them in the pool?”<\/p>\n

Roger rested his hand on the cabinet for a long moment before answering.<\/p>\n

“Because this year she would’ve turned eighteen. She would’ve been getting ready to leave home… to step into the world and find her own place in it.”<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“Why put them in the pool?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

He looked toward the butterfly habitats, where a monarch clung to the edge of its chrysalis.<\/p>\n

“Emma always loved watching butterflies emerge. She used to say the hardest part wasn’t growing wings… it was trusting them enough to fly.”<\/p>\n

He smiled sadly.<\/p>\n

“I realized I’d spent ten years keeping all these ducks hidden away in boxes… just like I’d kept myself hidden beside that pond.”<\/p>\n

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

“I’d spent ten years keeping all these ducks hidden.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

His eyes met mine.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“They were never meant to stay there.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

A long silence settled between us.<\/p>\n

“If Emma had been here, this would’ve been the summer we finally let her step into the world. I couldn’t think of a better day to finally set all three of us free.”<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“I couldn’t think of a better day to finally set all three of us free.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Mrs. Whitaker led us to a glass display case.<\/p>\n

Inside were butterflies preserved after their natural life cycles had ended. Each had a date beneath it, but the notes were not scientific. They were a tribute to my daughter.<\/p>\n

Emma would have laughed at this crooked wing.<\/i><\/p>\n

Emma always chose the yellow ones first.<\/i><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Emma would have called this one a tiny sunset.<\/i><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

They were a tribute to my daughter.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

My fingers touched the glass.<\/p>\n

“This isn’t a memorial,” I muttered, a single, heavy tear cutting a warm path down my cheek.<\/p>\n

Roger stood beside me.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“No.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

It was not a shrine either.<\/p>\n

It was a conversation he had refused to let end.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“This isn’t a memorial.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

For ten years, I had searched for Emma’s last day.<\/p>\n

Roger had carried her ordinary ones forward.<\/p>\n

Neither of us had loved her more.<\/p>\n

We had simply grieved in opposite directions until we could no longer see each other across the distance.<\/p>\n

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

Neither of us had loved her more.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Mrs. Whitaker took the field guide from the cabinet.<\/p>\n

\n

“Roger donated it years ago so the children could keep using it,” she said. “But he asked that it stay here.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

She placed it in my hands.<\/p>\n

The cover was soft from use. Inside, Emma’s pencil notes crowded the margins.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“But he asked that it stay here.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Likes sunny rocks<\/i><\/p>\n

Wings like stained glass<\/i><\/p>\n

Do not touch with giant fingers<\/i><\/p>\n

Between two pages lay the pressed yellow flower from her second-grade field trip.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Do not touch with giant fingers<\/i><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I turned to the back cover.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

There, in crooked pencil, Emma had written:<\/p>\n

“If I ever find a butterfly nobody knows yet, I am naming it after Mom because she always finds things.”<\/i><\/p>\n

The words sat there patiently, waiting for me to arrive ten years late.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“I am naming it after Mom.”<\/i><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I had searched for bones.<\/p>\n

Shoes.<\/p>\n

A clue under pond weeds.<\/p>\n

I had not searched for my daughter’s voice.<\/p>\n

Roger sat in a child-sized chair across from me.<\/p>\n

“I was afraid she’d become only the girl who disappeared,” he said.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

I had searched for bones.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I kept my palm flat over Emma’s handwriting.<\/p>\n

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

“She did. In my head, she did.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Roger looked at the butterfly habitats.<\/p>\n

“Then let’s start somewhere else.”<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

“In my head, she did.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

It was not forgiveness.<\/p>\n

Maybe not soon.<\/p>\n

But it was the first sentence in years that did not end at the pond.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The next day, we returned to the nature room together.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

It was not forgiveness.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

At first, I stood near the door while Roger helped children mist milkweed leaves. I watched them press their faces close to glass, whispering encouragement to caterpillars too small to understand.<\/p>\n

One little boy asked me how to spell chrysalis.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

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

He corrected me with great disappointment.<\/p>\n

For the first time in years, I laughed in a school hallway.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

He corrected me with great disappointment.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Day by day, Emma came back in pieces.<\/p>\n

Her pockets full of leaves.<\/p>\n

Her solemn lectures about ants.<\/p>\n

The way she said “migration”\u00a0like it was magic<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Emma came back in pieces.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

When we visited Emma’s school yesterday, Roger and I stood side by side as a class gathered around a butterfly enclosure.<\/p>\n

A monarch struggled from its chrysalis.<\/p>\n

One little girl whispered, “Come on. You can do it.”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Without planning to, I reached for Roger’s hand.<\/p>\n

The butterfly opened its wings.<\/p>\n

The children cheered.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

The butterfly opened its wings.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

When it finally lifted into the warm afternoon, we did not follow it to the window.<\/p>\n

We stayed where we were, listening to the children laugh.<\/p>\n

And for the first time in ten years, when I thought of Emma, I did not see the pond.<\/p>\n

I saw my eight-year-old daughter kneeling in the grass, dirt on both knees, holding her butterfly guide open with both hands… pointing at something beautiful no one else had noticed.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n

When I thought of Emma, I did not see the pond.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Ten years after Emma vanished at the pond, I woke to hundreds of rubber ducks covering our pool. The note tied to the biggest promised I could see my daughter … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":16483,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,9,2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-16950","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16950","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=16950"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16950\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16951,"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16950\/revisions\/16951"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/16483"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=16950"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=16950"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailystoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=16950"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}