The older I get the older I think middle age begins. At least I did until I met Preston. Preston's only twenty five. At forty two, being around him makes me feel pretty old. Then again, flirting with him is kind of fun. Until I look in the mirror. I've heard about cougars-women who date much younger men. I just don't know that I want to be one.

I've been divorced for several years and was fine with it until my daughter went away to college. I keep busy with my writing and thought my days were still fulfilling until Preston came into my life. Now I'm not okay with anything. I'm not happy being alone and I'm not happy being middle-aged. I'm not happy considering dating someone young enough to be my son either.

So, I'm doing what I've always done. I'm running away. Not as in disappear forever, as in escaping to my best friend and her sanctuary, hidden in the mountains. I just need a little time to myself to think. It's always worked before. I've always been able to calm down and center myself. No reason to think this time would be different.