*Preston
Sunflower
Preston Izant Mueller
Preston
Day 14 — February 23
Compared to Annika’s difficult birth, Preston’s was less complicated, labor starting at 7:30 a.m., his birth the same evening. This time we actually had a name chosen, as we both agreed on Preston, narrowly beating out Erik. Elizabeth loved that Preston means, “priest’s town” or “of the priest’s estate.” Seemed fitting.
If Annika was the poster child for talking early, Preston was the poster child for not. I was once at the public library and stumbled upon a book titled, Late Talking Children. The author noted that children who talk late often have strengths in the 3M’s—music, math, and memory—and that was true for Preston.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, Preston was fascinated by computers at a very young age. While Annika was saying full sentences at 17 months, Preston was quietly clicking the mouse and playing “Sticky Bear” on the screen. Two children with the same parents can obviously end up with a uniquely different genetic profile; Elizabeth and I always marveled at each child’s combination of our passions and personalities.
Then, while other kids were playing computer games, Preston was teaching himself coding languages, making websites, and creating phone apps. To balance out the screen time, we started Preston on the cello, and we spent many family weeks at Suzuki summer family camp each June in the mountains.
Along with biking, kayaking, and tennis, Preston loves to ski. But he takes a special interest not only in skiing down the hill, but also the incredible engineering that glides you UP on the chairlift or gondola.
In college, Preston’s major was Computer Science at Worcester Polytechnic Institute in Worcester, Massachusetts, which prepared him well for a career as a software engineer. He lives and works in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where he also volunteers time towards his other passion—public transportation and trains—for the nonprofit TransitMatters.
Added to our collection of art is this unique, impressionistic pastel of a sunflower created by Preston in middle school.
And this I know—without a doubt—that Elizabeth’s love for her cherished son lives on forever.
Day 14: the art of love and loss
view all posts at kentmueller.com
February 10, 2020, was the day my wife, Elizabeth Izant, entered the hospital. She and I were on a hopeful journey following her heart transplant five months prior. On March 1, she entered hospice and died March 11. This series is not about her medical journey. This is about sharing stories and reflections about our life together. In our 29 years of marriage, we collected a piece of art or two each year, often in celebration of our marriage anniversary. Each day from February 10 to March 11, I will be sharing an image of that art. And a story.