“¿Me escuchas?” my mom’s voice crackled on the other end of the line, cutting through some bad connection static and a long day I’d rather forget.

“Barely,” I grumbled, stepping out of the newsroom, still in my rookie reporter days, where breaking news clung to me like the smell of burnt coffee and cheap takeout. I thought she’d called with her usual lineup of questions: “Did you eat today?” or “When are you coming over to visit your tía?”

But what followed was not the usual mom talk.

“You got a letter in the mail today—from Madrid!” Her voice spilled over with excitement.

I stopped walking. Madrid? That letter was either going to confirm or crush my big, dreamy, post-college plans of studying abroad. It was supposed to be a leap toward something big, maybe even a chance to finally feel like one of those impossibly cool people you see in travel ads, sipping coffee at a sidewalk café in a new city. But all I could think in that moment was, Dear God, let this not be the rejection kind of letter!

Thus began one life-changing phone call.

Setting the Scene: A Crossroads in Houston

At the time, I was going nowhere fast. Don't get me wrong—I was doing fine, but "fine" has a way of feeling like you’re jogging on a treadmill while everyone else is sprinting in scenic landscapes. I worked hard at a job that barely covered my rent and lived in a cozy apartment that doubled as my writing lab (and occasionally, my laundry zone).

I craved a story bigger than the ones I was writing—one with real plot twists and maybe subtitles in a different language. But going to Madrid meant stepping away from Houston, from my family’s Friday night domino games, my mom’s arroz con frijoles, and my little sister’s weekends crashing on my couch. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to hit pause on my tight-knit, sometimes chaotic, Cuban-Mexican bubble.

Hearing that Madrid might actually be in my cards set my nerves into a full-blown telenovela. This was the moment when everything—the safe but predictable path I was on—could tip into the unknown.

The Confirmation: “I Opened It...”

“Okay, Mom,” I started, trying to match her energy even as my heart had already sprinted 26 emotional laps. “What did it say?”

“Well, I opened it—don’t get mad—but mija, they said yes! ¡Dijeron que sí!”

I gasped. Like, dramatic gasps you see in over-the-top romcoms when someone realizes their childhood best friend has always been The One. “Are you sure? You read it right?”

“You think I don’t know how to read, Ileana?!” she shot back, half-offended but mostly thrilled.

I didn’t need to see the letter to believe her. The joy buzzing through her words—joy that wasn’t just for me but for all the sacrifices my parents made so I could get this chance—was enough.

I didn’t cry in that moment because I was still standing in a crowded, fluorescent-lit newsroom, and mascara running down my face wasn’t going to convey “pro journalist.” But the tears came later—exhaled relief, gratitude, and maybe a little freak-out-over-leaving-home tears too.

What That Call Really Meant

When I boarded that flight to Madrid months later, I wasn’t just saying yes to studying abroad. I was saying yes to myself, to taking a risk that didn’t have a guaranteed “happily-ever-after.”

Funny enough, Madrid ended up being less like the polished European postcard I’d imagined and more like a romping indie film. My Spanish wasn’t as flawless as I’d hoped (yes, I embarrassingly asked where to park my car…in the middle of a metro station). Meeting people came with trial and error: one awkward mix-up led to a date that was definitely not a date (let’s just say cultural misunderstandings can get very weird, very fast).

But the experience itself? Invaluable. I got to explore who I was outside of the home I’d grown up in—both the literal house in East Houston and the figurative home of my comfort zone.

Lessons from the Call I’ll Never Forget

Looking back, that phone call wasn’t just about a letter. It was a moment that hit pause on the constant swirl of everyday decisions and zoomed out to show the bigger picture: life is about showing up for opportunities. Even the scary, I-don’t-know-if-I’m-ready type.

Here’s what taking the call (both literally and figuratively!) taught me:

  • Our biggest connections start small. A phone call, a letter, a conversation that kicks off an idea—they have this domino effect of unraveling dreams or possibilities we didn’t even know were hiding in us.
  • It’s okay to be nervous—just don’t let it paralyze you. Saying yes to Madrid didn’t erase my fear of failing, feeling out of place, or homesickness. Those things came right along for the ride. I just had to keep moving through them.
  • You can honor your roots while still exploring your branches. I still called home for my mom’s advice (she loved to remind me how to stretch my euros and who I needed to light a veladora for). My identity didn’t get left behind because I went somewhere new—it came along with me, just with sunnier skies and jamón ibérico on the table.

What’s Your "Say Yes" Moment?

Not every life-changing moment comes with fireworks. Sometimes they’re as quiet as a phone ringing, an envelope arriving, or a friend saying, “Go for it—you’re ready.” Sometimes all you need to do is pick up the phone.

It’s funny to think back on how close I came to ignoring that call. Can you imagine? Me, staying stuck in my in-between place because I didn’t think a single “yes” could rewrite a whole chapter of my life?

So maybe your version of my Madrid is something else—a big career move, a relationship you’re scared to define, a creative leap that feels terrifying because it means launching something into the world and hoping it’ll stick. Whatever it is, let this be your sign: answer the call.

The worst thing you can do is stand still on that treadmill life. Believe me—you’re made for scenic landscapes and subtitles too.