Holding Tight

I didn't mean to listen to the conversation.

The television was blaring in the background as I surfed the internet and read a few newspapers online when I heard a woman heralding the virtues of her hometown area code.

Marin (I am only vaguely familiar with Anne Heche's character) trotted off to Alaska to share her wealth of relationship advice (the character, not the actress, obviously), taking with her a New York City cell phone and an intangible connection to the Big City.

I don't normally draw parallels between my life and that of a character played by a woman who once called herself Celestia - I really don't think she'll ever live that down - but I couldn't help but identify with the city slicker.

I moved back to Cincinnati over three years ago, taking with me the vestiges of my time in Lexington. One of those small traces of the past involves my own area code.

The phone number is ingrained in my mind, and I have no plans to give it up any time soon.

In fact, I dream about the days when I am an old woman who will wear purple, answering her 859 cellie.

There's something about the area code of my home-away-from-home, the place where I did quite a bit of growing up and yet celebrated some of the best (most hedonistic) times of my life.

And let's not forget: the same year I graduated college Central and Northern Kentucky changed the area code from 606 to 859 as a way to honor my alma mater.

People in Cincinnati ask me all the time about when I'm changing my area code, I guess it's in part because they have to pay long distance fees if they call me from a land line.

But I'm not giving it up.