{"id":21082,"date":"2026-10-08T00:17:14","date_gmt":"2026-10-08T00:17:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/?p=21082"},"modified":"2026-10-08T00:17:15","modified_gmt":"2026-10-08T00:17:15","slug":"my-son-found-a-green-pebble-on-his-fathers-shoe-hours-later-i-realized-it-shouldnt-have-been-there","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lifechaptersusa.online\/?p=21082","title":{"rendered":"My Son Found a Green Pebble on His Father\u2019s Shoe\u2014Hours Later, I Realized It Shouldn\u2019t Have Been There"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Ialmost laughed when my six-year-old handed me the strange green pebble he’d picked out of my husband’s shoe. By lunchtime, I’d figured out exactly where it came from. The problem was that my husband had no reason to have been there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My six-year-old son loves playing with his little trucks by our front door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His cars are always filthy from being dragged outside, so I’ve gotten into the habit of telling him, “Keep them by the shoe rack, buddy. I don’t want all that dirt in your bedroom.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One morning, while I was getting ready for work, he came running into my bedroom with something pinched between his fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Mommy, what’s this?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He dropped a tiny bright-green pebble into my palm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And when I say bright green, I mean unnaturally green. It almost looked like it was glowing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Where did you get this?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Daddy’s shoe.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Apparently it had been wedged into one of the grooves on the bottom of John’s sneaker.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned it over several times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wasn’t glass or plastic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It felt exactly like a normal landscaping stone, except I’d never seen anything that color before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I have no idea,” I told him. “We’ll ask Dad tonight.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I put it on my bedside table and left for work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I should’ve forgotten about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, that little pebble stayed in my head all morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, during my lunch break, I was scrolling through social media when I stopped on a picture my sister had posted over the weekend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was sitting outside with a few girlfriends, having dinner on her patio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost kept scrolling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I noticed the pathway behind them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My sister had redone her backyard a few months earlier, and the path from her patio to the house was covered with decorative glow-in-the-dark green pebbles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Exactly like the one sitting on my bedside table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I zoomed in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Same size.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Same bizarre neon-green color.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My sister lived almost two hours away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And John had supposedly spent the weekend visiting his family upstate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walked outside my office and called him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The second he answered, I said, “Care to explain what you were doing at my sister’s house this weekend?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally he said, “What?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You heard me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Who told you I was there?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My stomach dropped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Seriously, John? That’s your question? Who told me?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Stacy, wait.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I thought you were visiting your family.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I was.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Then why did you go to my sister’s house?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He went quiet again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Were you with her behind my back?” I asked. “Is that what this is?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Oh God, no. Stacy, you don’t understand.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Then explain it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He took a long breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes, I went to your sister’s house.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I visited my parents like I told you. On the way home, I made a detour to your sister’s house.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Why?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Because she asked me to meet someone.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Who?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Rachel.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a second, I genuinely thought I’d misheard him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What did you say?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Rachel was there.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hadn’t spoken to Rachel in six years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once, I couldn’t imagine going six hours without talking to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We met in college and became the kind of friends people assumed had grown up together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She knew what I’d order before I opened a menu.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had a drawer at her apartment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When John proposed, Rachel was one of the first people I called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was supposed to stand beside me at our wedding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She didn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What the hell were you doing meeting Rachel?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Your sister called me. Rachel contacted her and wanted to give you something. Your sister didn’t know whether letting her back into your life would hurt you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“So she called my husband?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“She thought I’d know how you felt.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You could’ve asked me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I know.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“No, apparently you don’t.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hung up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat in my car for several minutes, staring at my phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rachel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even thinking her name made me angry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our friendship had ended over her boyfriend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hated the way he treated her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d watched him humiliate her in front of people, disappear for days after arguments, then come back expecting her to apologize for being upset.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once, I watched Rachel spend an entire birthday dinner apologizing to him because he’d arrived late and somehow decided her annoyance had embarrassed him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When John and I were planning our wedding, I finally told Rachel I didn’t want him there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was furious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You don’t get to decide who I’m with.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m not deciding who you’re with. I’m deciding who I want at my wedding.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“If he’s not invited, I’m not coming.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I still remember the silence after she said it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought she’d back down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, I said, “Then don’t.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She didn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her empty place beside me on my wedding day hurt more than I ever admitted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The worst part was that less than a year later, they broke up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everything I’d warned her about turned out to be true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By then, though, neither of us reached out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now my husband had secretly driven to my sister’s house to meet her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John was waiting when I got home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our son was building a road across the living room carpet, so we couldn’t exactly have the argument we wanted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We waited until he was asleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I said, “Start talking.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John sat across from me at the kitchen table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Your sister called Thursday. Rachel had gotten in touch with her and wanted you to have something. Your sister didn’t know whether giving it to you would reopen a wound you’d spent years trying to close. She asked me to meet Rachel and hear her out.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“And you agreed?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Why didn’t she ask me?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Because every time she’s mentioned Rachel over the years, you’ve shut the conversation down.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“So instead, the two of you decided what I could handle?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John looked down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“That’s fair.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“No, John. It’s not.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I meant what you’re saying is fair.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I folded my arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What did Rachel want?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“She wanted me to understand why she was reaching out before I decided whether to give you what she brought.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You were going to decide?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I hadn’t decided anything yet. I came home with it because I needed to think.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“About whether I deserved to know someone was trying to contact me?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“About whether handing it to you would help or just tear open something you wanted closed.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

“Why would you even think I wanted it open?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His expression changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Because I don’t think you’re over what happened.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I laughed once. “You don’t get to tell me what I’m over.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’ve seen you looking at her pages.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

“What?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“A few times.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’ve looked her up. So what?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Stacy, you went through photos from her vacation last year.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Heat rushed into my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d thought John was watching television that night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I was curious.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Okay.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Don’t say it like that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Like what?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Like you know something about me that I don’t.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he said, “There’s something else.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I immediately hated those words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“A few months ago, you left your journal open on the bed when you went to help Ben.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

“I wasn’t going through it,” he said quickly. “I saw Rachel’s name. I read maybe two lines before I realized what I was looking at.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You read my journal?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I stopped.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You still read it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes. And I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those pages contained things I’d never said aloud, sometimes because I didn’t even want to admit them to myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What did you see?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“That you wished things had gone differently.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John didn’t move toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I shouldn’t have seen it,” he said. “And I shouldn’t have gone without telling you. But when your sister called, I kept thinking about that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“So you decided I secretly wanted my old best friend back?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“No. I decided I wasn’t sure you actually wanted her gone.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That landed harder than I wanted it to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went upstairs without answering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I barely slept.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next morning, I called my sister.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“How long have you been talking to Rachel?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She sighed. “I wondered when you’d call.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Answer me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“On and off. Not constantly.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“How long?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Years, Stacy.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat down on the edge of the bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What do you mean, years?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“We still know some of the same people. Every once in a while we’d cross paths or she’d send me a message. She’d ask about you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Why?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Because she cares about you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“She had an interesting way of showing it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I know what she did. I’m not defending it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What does she ask?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My sister hesitated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Whether you’re happy. How Ben is doing. She asked about Mom after her surgery. Normal things.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Then why didn’t she ever contact me herself?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My sister went silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally she said, “She did.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I knew immediately what she meant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ben had been three weeks old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was exhausted, overwhelmed and checking my phone during a 2:00 a.m. feeding when Rachel’s name appeared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She congratulated me. Said she’d seen a picture through a mutual friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she apologized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not perfectly. Not enough to erase everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But she’d said she regretted how things ended and hoped that maybe, someday, I’d let her apologize properly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d read that message at least ten times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d even typed a response.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I’d deleted it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You remember,” my sister said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“She tried, Stacy.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“One message doesn’t fix missing my wedding.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I didn’t say it did.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Then what are you saying?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m saying you always tell the story like Rachel walked away and never looked back. That’s not exactly what happened.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wanted to argue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, I ended the call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For most of the day, I couldn’t stop thinking about that old message.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d told myself I hadn’t answered because I wasn’t ready.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was partly true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was another truth underneath it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d wanted Rachel to hurt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She’d chosen her boyfriend over me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She’d left me standing at my wedding without the person I’d expected beside me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he proved me right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Rachel finally reached out, some ugly little part of me had thought, “Now you know.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went home that evening and found John making dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What did Rachel want you to give me?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He turned off the burner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he went upstairs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When he returned, he was carrying a folded stack of yellowed paper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“She found this while cleaning out some boxes,” he said. “She told me if you never wanted to speak to her again, she’d understand. She just wanted you to have it if I thought giving it to you wouldn’t make things worse.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I unfolded the pages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the top, in Rachel’s handwriting, were the words: “Maid of Honor Speech.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I couldn’t read it at first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John quietly left the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I finally started, I found stupid jokes I’d forgotten, stories from college, and memories that belonged to a version of my life I’d spent years refusing to revisit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I reached the final page.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rachel had written about why I was her closest friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One line stopped me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wrote that I was the person she trusted to tell her the truth, especially when it was the last thing she wanted to hear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I covered my mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was exactly what had destroyed us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d told her the truth about her boyfriend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She’d hated me for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But reading those pages forced me to see something I’d resisted for years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rachel hadn’t skipped my wedding because our friendship meant nothing to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She’d been angry, defensive and trapped inside a relationship she wasn’t ready to admit was bad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had made a terrible choice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I’d made one too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went upstairs and found the old message.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was still there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I read it again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This time, I didn’t read it as the woman who’d been waiting for Rachel to admit she was right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I read it as someone who had spent six years occasionally typing her former best friend’s name into a search bar just to make sure she looked happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I called my sister.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Do you have Rachel’s number?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She didn’t make me explain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rachel and I met three days later at a small coffee shop halfway between our homes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I got there first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When she walked in, I almost didn’t recognize her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she smiled nervously, and suddenly she was 26 again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hi, Stace.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nobody called me that anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hi.” She sat across from me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For several seconds, neither of us knew what to say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally Rachel said, “I’m sorry I missed your wedding.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No excuses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No explanation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I swallowed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I was right about him.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She blinked, then laughed softly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Still you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I surprised myself by laughing too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I shook my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“That’s actually part of what I came to say. I was right about him. But I think being right became too important to me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rachel’s eyes filled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You were trying to protect me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I was also trying to make your decision for you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I should’ve listened.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Maybe. But I shouldn’t have ignored you when you reached out after Ben was born.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rachel looked down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I thought you hated me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I wanted you to feel rejected,” I admitted. “I told myself I needed time, but part of me wanted you to know what it felt like.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She nodded slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I deserved some of that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Maybe. Not six years.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked at me then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I asked your sister about you more times than I should probably admit.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I know.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rachel winced. “That’s embarrassing.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’ve been looking at your pictures online for years.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

Then we both started laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Six years of silence, and we’d apparently spent much of it quietly checking whether the other person was okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We didn’t fix everything that afternoon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That would’ve felt fake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, we talked for almost three hours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before we left, Rachel asked if she could meet Ben sometime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’d like that,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At home, I found John sitting on the couch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“How’d it go?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Good.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He smiled, relieved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few days later, Ben came running into my bedroom while I was putting away laundry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The green pebble was still on my bedside table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He picked it up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Mommy, did you ever figure out where Daddy got this?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked at that ridiculous little glowing stone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d thought it might prove my husband was betraying me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, it had exposed a secret I’d been keeping from everyone, including myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yeah, buddy,” I said. “I figured it out.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Where?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Auntie’s house.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He considered that completely uninteresting and put it back down before running off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I kept it there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not because I was glad John had lied to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I kept it because for six years, Rachel and I had let one terrible fight become bigger than the friendship that came before it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She’d tried once to cross the distance, and I’d pushed her back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After that, we’d both spent years pretending we weren’t still looking over our shoulders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the end, it took a tiny green pebble stuck in the bottom of my husband’s shoe to make me look back and finally do something about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But here’s the real question: If you realized pride had kept you apart from someone you still loved for years, would you be willing to make the first move even after everything that happened?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Enjoyed this story? Here’s another one you’re going to like: A man couldn’t fully see his daughter, and they didn’t share DNA, but neither fact had stopped him from being her dad for 14 years. Then, just before his daughter’s graduation, her classmates used both truths to question whether he belonged there. What he did next made it clear that other people’s words weren’t going to decide what kind of father he was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Ialmost laughed when my six-year-old handed me the strange green pebble he’d picked out of my husband’s shoe. By lunchtime, I’d figured out exactly where it came from. The problem … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":21083,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21082","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family-story","category-lastest-story"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t