From my corner-Thursday thoughts

“Two Nights Before the Walk”

Hello dear family and friends,

How are you doing on this Thursday night? Shoot me that text or drop me a comment — you know I always love hearing from you.

Tonight, as I sit here in the soft quiet of my home, I’m holding a kind of excitement that feels almost sacred. Tomorrow begins my son’s three‑day wedding celebration, and the energy in my heart is something I can’t quite put into words… but I’ll try.

Tomorrow morning, the festivities kick off with a full round of golf — and when I say full, I mean they practically have the entire course to themselves. After the last putt drops, we’ll head straight into the rehearsal walk‑through, the rehearsal dinner, and then an after‑dinner cocktail party to close out the night.

Saturday will be its own whirlwind — hair and makeup for the gals, fresh cuts for the groomsmen, photos, the ceremony at 4, dinner, dancing, and a reception that promises to stretch until midnight.

And Sunday… a pool party from 11 until whenever the joy runs out, which I suspect might be never.

But if I’m honest, there’s one moment that keeps rising above the rest.

Walking my son down the aisle.

Just typing those words makes my breath catch. It’s the kind of moment a mother feels in her bones — a moment stitched from every year, every memory, every version of him I’ve ever loved. The little boy with scraped knees. The teenager finding his way. The man who stands tall in his own life now.

And tomorrow, he asked me to walk beside him.

Usually, speeches and big moments make me anxious — I’m a writer, after all, not a speaker — but when Kevin and Jagger asked me to give a speech at their rehearsal dinner, something inside me softened instead of tightened. I didn’t feel fear. I felt honored. Deeply, quietly honored.

Tonight, as I finished writing that speech, I found myself whispering a few grounding lines I plan to carry with me during our walk — little heart‑prayers to steady my breath and open my chest to the fullness of the moment:

“This is our moment. One step at a time, with love leading us both.” “Every step is a love letter to the boy you were and the man you’ve become.” “I guided you here, and now I walk with you as you begin your own forever.”

I don’t know how I’ll keep my composure. Maybe I won’t. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe this is one of those rare times in life where emotion isn’t something to manage — it’s something to honor.

All I know is this: I hope this weekend is everything Kevin and Jagger have ever dreamed of. And I hope that when I take that first step beside my son, I feel every ounce of the love that brought us to this moment.

P.S.
A mother never stops walking her child home — even when the path leads to a brand‑new beginning.🦋

Love Life++ Hugs,
Dawna — may the butterflies remind you that we are all still becoming 🦋