The phone rang as I stood at the counter in my parents’ bakery, tying up pastelitos con guayaba into their little paper sleeves. It was a sound I had heard—a million times over—since I could remember. But for some reason, the ringtone that day felt different. Louder, heavier, like it knew something life-altering was waiting on the other side. The Call I’ll Never Forget wasn’t dramatic, no violins playing in the background, but it had the kind of plot twist that taught me about resilience, love, and the art of staying true to yourself... even when the universe is throwing curveballs like it’s auditioning for the Marlins.
That "One Missed Call" (But Not Creepy)
First, let me set the scene. My family’s bakery was in full swing that day—customers flipping coins for croquetas, regulars making their daily debates about who had the better batting average: Miguel Cabrera or José Canseco. My older brother was checking the espresso machine like an orchestra conductor, and my mom was scolding the delivery guy for crushing a loaf of pan cubano. It was chaos, but a beautiful one.
Picture something between a live telenovela and an open-mic comedy night. That’s the soundtrack of my childhood. The bakery was a quilt of overlapping conversations, loud laughter, and sugary air. And there I was, in my guayabera shirt, contemplating whether the biggest crisis of the day would involve an angry abuela out of her favorite miniature flan. Life felt... simple then. Predictable.
Then my phone vibrated. And here’s where I confess: I almost didn’t pick up. I was juggling a box of pastries and a list of other things on the mental chalkboard of my brain. Plus, you know, answering phone calls in South Florida traffic-loud settings is risky—it’s either a spam caller telling you about an extended car warranty or someone asking for free pastelitos like we’re running a charity.
But this wasn’t just a casual "What’s for dinner?" call. This was déjame explicarte—a pivotal moment.
The Unexpected Invitation
It was my advisor from Florida State University. For context, by then, I had graduated and was doing the whole “figuring things out” thing. You know, the kind of phase where you think you’ll have your entire life charted out by 25 but secretly hope no one asks you what exactly you’re working on.
“I just heard about this writers’ residency,” my professor started. “It’s in Key West, a few months long, pretty competitive. But Raúl, I think you’d be perfect for it.”
I almost dropped the pastelitos.
Let me clarify: hearing “perfect for it” when you’ve been marinating in self-doubt feels like your favorite salsa song coming on after a long, silent car ride. But Key West? It stirred up every anxiety I had. I’d never lived in a place without the cushion of my family, my community. Sure, I’d been in Tallahassee for school, but this felt drastic. Too much agua. Too much me, alone with my thoughts.
Before I could fully process what was happening, I realized the entire bakery had gone quiet.
Well, no, it hadn’t. But somehow, it felt like the walls were closing in as I stammered through thanking my professor for nominating me. “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I said in Spanish because the words “life-changing opportunity” don’t hit the same in English.
If you’re expecting some cinematic rapid-fire decision-making montage after that, you’d be disappointed. My anxiety told me to stall, to talk myself out of it. I did what many of us do when faced with a tough call: I avoided making one.
Saying Yes (To the Call and Everything After)
Here’s the thing about big opportunities—they wait for absolutely no one. I mulled over going to Key West until the date to respond was almost mañana. My dad, noticing my restlessness, decided to chime in late one night after close. He had this way of peeling oranges that was both methodical and oddly symbolic.
“This is what you want to do, right?” he asked, his voice somewhere between soft encouragement and Cuban patriarch pragmatism.
“Yeah... I think?” I replied, honestly still unsure.
He shrugged, grabbing another naranja. “Then stop being scared. You’re not leaving us, mijo—you’re taking us with you. We’re going to be sitting there on your shoulder whether you’re writing in Florida or Mars, entiendes?”
(For the record, my dad could’ve moonlighted in motivational TikToks had he been born a few decades later.)
The next day, I said yes to the residency.
Lessons From That Call (And Why You Should Always Answer Yours)
Key West wasn’t just a writers’ paradise—it was a lesson in independence, inspiration, and the kind of vulnerability that might make you cry over Hemingway’s six-toed cats. Here’s what that call taught me—lessons I think apply not just to career pivots but also relationships, breakups, and every semi-chaotic moment in between:
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Answer the Scary Calls
Whether it’s a literal phone call, a text, or a gut feeling telling you to take a chance, don’t ghost your opportunities. The worst thing you can do is let that moment fade into a “what if.” Trust me—your future self will thank you after they stop hyperventilating. -
Push Back Against Fear (Gently)
Saying yes doesn’t mean you’ve eliminated fear, it just means you’ve shifted how it weighs on you. I still doubted myself my first month in Key West. But every morning as I stared at the ocean, scribbling bad drafts, I started to make friends with my imposter syndrome. When you carry fear alongside you, it seems less like a monster and more like a second cousin who just needs to chill out. -
Your “Calling” Takes Time
Whether you’re figuring out what you want in your career, your relationships, or your next step in life—it’s okay to sit in the uncertainty. That call didn’t hand me a neatly tied future. It opened a door I didn’t even know I was ready for. -
You Bring Your “Home” With You
This is a big one. Leaving Hialeah made me realize how deeply my roots influenced my writing, and even the way I connect to others. After all, people backup their data before upgrading a phone, why shouldn’t we carry our most important “data” forward too? Every cafecito memory, pastelito wrapper, and laugh I left back home wasn’t left behind—they were packed, emotionally speaking. You’re never as far from home as you think.
The Call: A Love Letter to Opportunity
We often think big moments in life are wrapped in neon signs or accompanied by John Williams scores. But more often than not, they’re just whispers testing if you’re paying attention. Whether in your career, relationships, or unexpected detours—you’ll never know how a single call you almost didn’t answer can define your next chapter.
So, if you’re hesitating to pick up that metaphorical phone, ask yourself what’s scarier: leaping into the unknown or staying exactly where you are?
And if all else fails, listen to my dad. He still says the same thing to me whenever things get tough: “Raúl, whether you’re in Key West, Hialeah, or Yugoslavia, tírate! If you fall, we’ll catch you.”
My advice? Just answer that call.
