Yes, My Abuela Is Involved in My Morning Routine (And That’s Not Negotiable)

Mornings in my Miami apartment start like a classic salsa rhythm: steady, predictable, and—if I’m honest—just a little too loud for 7:00 a.m. While some folks wake up to serene playlists or the sound of chirping birds, my alarm clock is an internal one, pre-programmed by years of my abuela yelling, “¡Levántate antes de que el sol te saque la cama!” Translation? Get up before the sun kicks you out of bed.

Abuela doesn’t actually live with me anymore (she’s semi-retired in Hialeah), but her voice lives rent-free in my head, bossing me around in ways only Caribbean grandmothers can. It turns out, she also taught me the rituals that root me to my day, love, and occasionally, my sanity.

Let me take you through a day in my life—one cafecito at a time.

The Cafecito Contemplation

I start every morning as any self-respecting Cuban American should: with a shot of espresso so strong it could reboot outdated technology. Forget slow brew coffee or yerba mate; the cafecito is both prayer and lifeline.

I stand in my small kitchen, patiently watching the moka pot on the stovetop like it might tell me my future. The sound of coffee bubbling up isn’t just satisfying—it’s existential clarity in liquid form. Maybe you meditate, or go for a jog, or scroll Instagram first thing. But for me, that first cup is sacred. It's when I tackle life's Big Questions:

  • Did I flirt too hard with the bartender last night?
  • What’s the difference between playful banter and unhinged texting?
  • When do you know someone’s “the one”—before or after they tell you their favorite reggaeton artist?

Pro tip: Pair your first sip with silence. No emails. No texts. Just you, your thoughts, and the faint guilt of meeting a deadline five minutes late because you were “pondering.”

The Playlist That Sets the Tone

After coffee, the next part of my morning ritual is picking a theme song. Not just any playlist—a highly curated vibe that aligns with how I want the day to go. Feeling ambitious? Celia Cruz reminds me that la vida es un carnaval, and I might just dance into my shower. Tired or emotionally hungover from a date that went weird? It’s Drake—or, if it was truly tragic, early 2000s emo.

Music anchors my emotional state, but it’s also a mirror for relationships. Salsa reminds me of connection: the push-and-pull, call-and-response rhythm mimicking conversations on first dates. Do we fall into sync like Marc Anthony and his backup dancers, or are we stepping all over each other’s toes?

Pro tip: Pick a “relationship playlist” that captures the highs and the heartbreaks of your love life. It keeps you grounded when you’re unsure if texting “good morning :)” is endearing or excessive. (Hint: It’s probably endearing. Just don’t emoji-bomb.)

Mid-Morning Check-In: Calls with Mom (a.k.a. Free Therapy)

Once I’m caffeinated and tuned in to life’s soundtrack, there’s the obligatory call with my mom. She’s not nosy—she’s exactly the right amount of Cuban-mom curious.

“¿Y qué pasó con la chica que conociste?” is her gentle way of asking if I accidentally sabotaged my shot at a second date. Sometimes, her advice doubles as wisdom for life:

  • On red flags: “Un hombre que no sabe bailar ni pide postre no tiene alma.” (A man who doesn’t dance or order dessert has no soul.)
  • On patience: “Todo llega a su tiempo.” (Everything happens in its time—often said while handing me leftovers to survive until then.)

Relationship tip: Someone’s been where you are, and maybe, just maybe, their unsolicited guidance comes with a side of arroz con pollo for comfort. Accept the free food—and wisdom.

The Unexpected Midday Ritual: Salsa with the Windows Closed

Here’s my secret midday habit. Around noon, I crank up salsa music, lock my apartment door, and have a one-song dance party—windows shut for dignity’s sake. It’s not for exercise or TikTok likes (blessedly, no one records this). It’s simply a way to remind myself that romance, like dancing, isn’t about perfection but flow.

I used to think love was some grand performance. You memorize steps, wait for the spotlight, hope not to trip. But the best connections, like impromptu dancing, are when you stop overthinking and just move.

Pro tip: If you want to shake off a bad date or pre-date jitters, playing Juan Luis Guerra’s “La Bilirrubina” at full volume can transform your mood. Will it make your neighbors judge you? Likely. Will it be worth it? Absolutely.

The “Am I Overthinking This?” Hour

By 3:00 p.m., I know it’s time to wrestle the beast called overthinking. The location doesn’t matter—a park bench, my desk, the corner booth of a café—it’s my daily spiral into “What did they mean when they said ‘Let’s hang out sometime’?” territory.

This is where my background as a journalist meets my inner romantic. I dig, analyze, connect dots. (Did he mention work stresses during dinner or is that just an excuse?) My grandparents’ old-school love—70 years strong despite yelling matches over which dominoes set to use—taught me that overthinking is sometimes yelling at the wrong dominoes.

Pro tip: If you’re stuck in your own head, text a friend who gets it. Or better, write it down and leave it there for the day. The best answers usually pop up when you finally release the questions.

Dinner with Friends: The Group Chat IRL

My evenings are my most sacred ritual. I call it “therapy tapas.” It’s me and a rotating crew of friends catching up over croquetas or tacos, spilling way too many details about first dates, breakups, or the accidental text someone sent to their crush (spoiler: it was me).

This time reminds me to laugh at myself, especially when I get too wrapped up in believing every failed date needs closure (hint: it doesn’t). My best friend once toasted to my dating disasters like they were Oscar nominations—proof that someone else's perspective can turn awkward into hilarious.

Pro tip: Your romantic life is rarely as chaotic as it feels. Find people who remind you it’s okay to laugh at the absurdity and move on.

The Moment of Solitude

By the end of the day, I circle back to quiet intentionality. My abuela’s voice makes her last appearance here, reminding me to say thanks—to the ancestors, the universe, or the random guy who held the café door open this morning. Gratitude keeps me grounded.

Life can make you feel like a perpetually single character in a bad rom-com, but these small rituals—cafecito, salsa music, and my trusted circle—are the ways I shrug off the drama and root myself in joy.

Because, as my abuela would say, “Siempre hay algo bueno para agradecer.” There’s always something good to be grateful for—even if all you’ve got today is a decent dance playlist and leftover arroz con leche.

Pro tip: Make one small ritual yours—gratitude journaling, solo salsa, or, yes, an espresso so strong it tastes like rebellion. It might not solve your dating woes, but it’ll remind you you’re already romanticizing the little things, and that’s half the battle.

Conclusion

My day is messy, loud, sometimes over-caffeinated, and unapologetically me. And maybe that’s the takeaway—your routines don’t need to make sense to anyone else. From flirtations to long-term feels, my life—like love—is a work in progress, built on habits that make me laugh, reflect, and show up for myself.

So, start that one-man salsa session. Overanalyze that “Let’s hang out” text. Or just pour yourself a coffee so strong, your ancestors would approve. You’ve got this.

And hey, if all else fails? Call your mom. She’s probably been waiting for the update anyway.