To You,

Twenty-five years ago my father left this earth leaving behind more life and influence than can possibly be comprehended. I didn’t know then, but my father was soon to be the dream I forever chased throughout this world to continue his story of a life lived. Twenty-five years is a long time. Seven years is not in comparison to the extent that a human has the capability to live. I was 7 when my dad passed, and yet his stories have made it so that I’ve come to know him through every year of his shortened life.

He passed 25 years ago, and yet his life has extended a quarter century past his last breath. I have said so much about my father over these past years, and I don’t think I will ever be able to tell the story of his life to the extent that it is felt within my brother, sister, and I. He had his fears, and his faults; he was a specimen of health and strength, and although cancer and progressive illness took him away with a sweeping attack, it did not end his life and as such, his battle was never lost.

You see, he still lives in every story we tell, and in the many stories we have yet to write. Our life is not just ours to live, and when we live with the beauty and truth that my father’s life effervesced, our own chapters are then engraved onto every soul we choose to love. Twenty-five years ago we thought his life was over. But little did he know that his life was the perfect beginning to many more stories to come. And man, have we got some stories to tell.

Dad – as always – this one’s for you.


Love from, Vic Louise xoxoxo





Australia Post One: Time Out

To You,

I’ve decided to refrain from making any ongoing promises about the consistency of my posts. Because, let’s be honest, I’m sucking at it.

But to err on the side of sounding negative – here I am! Success! Brava to me!!

In February of this year my husband and I finally hopped on a plane to visit my brother and his girlfriend in Perth, Australia for an amazing two weeks. We flew into Brisbane for one night before jumping over to the WA where we stayed with them in their home a mere few blocks from the Indian Ocean.


[It’s okay. Take a moment to hate them for a moment. It happens.]

It’s needless to say how beautiful Australia is, but it does require reminding on how beautiful life can be over there. Just the idea of breathing in that fresh sea-salt air; feeling that golden sun on your well-sunscreened skin; drinking cup after cup of top-notch coffee. Every evening I became exhausted around 9:00PM, and sure I can blame some of that on the ridiculous jet-lag I suffered, but for the most part my body and mind finally let go of all my worries and uneasy anxiety that I hold onto daily. My brain would just melt down and my body would follow suit. And I rested. My soul just rested. And although this sounds lame and like death, it was quite the opposite. It was a moment for the death of the monotony to escape, and a breath for life to make its way back in.


The trip reminded me that I need to find my peace in where ever it is that I’m situated. I’m a free bird, and being settled in one location is a very hard notion for me to comprehend. But that doesn’t mean that I have to give in. So no more giving in. I may not live on the Indian Ocean (Damn my brother!), but there’s still a beautiful life to live.


There will be more posts to follow (who knows when) with more photos and write-ups pertaining to our trip to Oz. You can also check out more on my website, www.VLSon.com/work.

But for now, I’m going to take my own medicine as I head into the weekend. Time to take a breath. And keep on keepin’ on.

Love from, Vic Louise xoxoxo

Going through one of those “growing older and wiser” things

To You,

Sitting here on my weekly one day Wednesday off from work, I’ve been perplexed with fluctuating thoughts bumping around in the good ol’ cranium regarding my discontentment with certain aspects of my life. I’m one of those people who over-analyzes everything, has trouble forgetting anything that ever happened, and who tends to believe in the benefit of the doubt in human beings time and time again, which in the end results in time well wasted being invested in certain pursuits and relationships.

I think my twenties were filled with my ups and downs with people, trying to hold onto people who had let me down on more than one (or several) occasions. I am what my husband-face calls truly sentimental, one of the most sentimental he’s ever met. And this is true when it comes to things and relationships. However, I’m wondering if as I step through the finality of my twenties and push onwards through my thirties if I’m not losing my sentiment towards things and people but more so adding value to the sentiment of which I associate with these sorts of things.

Amongst an endless array of things, my relationship history with my husband has made me understand where one should put their time versus where one’s time is wasted. Our relationship has been an investment from day 1, knowing we would become one of those idiot couples attempting long-distance in the coming months after our first few dates – we knew that whatever level of trust we were about to reveal and demand to/from each other was going to determine the investment we were about to involve ourselves in. And each day since then we have had to invest a huge amount of our time into each other, our histories, our lives, and our future. And like any investment it has fluctuated in the market, but it’s one based off of a life-long plan and in order for it to succeed and flourish in its duration, it’s one that requires mutual trust, respect, and time inputted. So why should I involve my time in any other investment if it won’t stand by these same notions; if there isn’t sufficient mutual respect, trust, and time inputted, why should I invest myself into it any further?

Right now I am going through a strange emotional roller coaster – no, no, not a roller coaster, but maybe more like one of those experiences where you get in a bus in a small mountain village which rides along the routes that border the cliff of a death fall without guardrails, but with many bumps and turns.. yeah, it’s one of those ride-alongs. People don’t quite understand what it is we’re going through right now or what we have gone through up until now. Three years apart. And no, we don’t have a lot of money between us which would finance frequent visits throughout the months. And no, we don’t have any updates on our visa processing (which is the norm, expected, and all apart of the immigration process – but nonetheless annoying). We are in limbo, and my day-to-day life is fully invested in the repercussions of our situation – my logistics, my money, my time, my thoughts, my strength. And if people don’t understand the unbalanced motions of my life right now and if they are not invested in comprehending my frustrations as I do theirs, then why should I further invest in such relationships? I am in the first year of marriage, and in a normal situation this is a crucial time for any couple, but for us it only adds to our stress. It’s hard. It’s hard on us. And I miss him more than my sad-face emoticons could ever express.

The thing is, is I care. But I think at times I’ve invested my time and trust into others who have taken my ‘money’ and used it for their advantage alone and not mine when I’ve truly, truly needed it.

I think it’s an adult thing. Mixed with a life-lesson thing. It’s one of dem things.

Keep strong and carry on,

Love from, Vic Louise xoxoxo

Late Night Wonderments

I want my soul to be timeless; not tired nor old.

I want my mind to grow endless; never undervaluing true thought.

I want my core to remain strong; able to carry the weight of the weary.

I want to feel free and at ease; my heart knows nothing less.

I want to collect and to own; not acquire and materialize.

I want my home to act as life’s studio; creating always, never ceasing.

I want my heart to remain honest; fight against the ease of becoming mean.

I want my hands to strengthen daily; as my work is nothing compared to generations past.

I want to dream of romantic happenings; old love is all I’ll settle for.

I want my eyes to tear-up sincerely; they wash away the pain.

I want my laughter to awaken all senses; muscles aching in utmost joy.

I want my smiles to appear without intention; let my daydreams flutter about.

I want to experience every motion; the process defines the work.

I want to write on paper more than type; pulpy pages hold the hearts of my past.

I want to sleep and dream and awaken; I want to de-clutter my messes from my days.

Everyone Needs a Shoulder to Lean On

The breeze cools the room nicely, as it softly gives movement to the white linen fabric draped over the brown leather backing of the chair. The sun is finishing it’s descent for the day, culminating the tonal variants of the sky in a cool overcast grey.

Birds chirp in the distance, carrying on the song that was elevated in the morning hours. Apart from that, the only sounds to surround this space are the muffling of occasional voices heard passing down the road and the vacant white noise of the silence settling on this reflective Monday evening.

On a calm and cooling night following the erupting thought passages of the day, this chilled breeze breaking through the slight musky heat of this room is the only thing keeping me calm enough to breathe.

2008, Victoria L. Son

The emotional romantic in me is cracking at the seams, frustrated with everything secreting from my fingertips within their actions and intentions. All seems faulty, every thing touched turns the reverent intention into something lack-luster; nothing returns the acknowledgement nor sentiment that is demonstrated towards it, but rather ignores any effort with a shrugged off miff of ignorance towards the fact.

Slowly this space becomes darker with the glow of this laptop screen increasingly luminescent in contrast to the dulling light of which encompasses it.

The air, refreshing. The tone, a sigh of error. Trying so desperately to not revert to childish solitude, but in these days, these soon-to-be June days, the soul finds strength in nothing but.

2009, Victoria L. Son

The fall of night is near, and there are fewer words to speak of. A chilling breeze is all to be heard now, and in it, graceful meditation.

Bon nuit. x