The Spaces We Remember
Updated: Oct 1
Some summers are busy. Some summers are loud. And some are remembered through smell, sound, texture, and taste.
We are shaped by the environments that hold us and by the people who quietly become part of who we are.
Even though I have lived far from home for many years, I realize that my siblings have never stopped shaping me.
Last week, my dear older brother, Mauricio, passed away.
I had been planning to visit him in Cuetzalan this July. We were going to celebrate my birthday together and, in many ways, celebrate all the birthdays we had missed over the years. I didn’t make it in time to hug him, to tell him how deeply I appreciated his love, his laughter, his playful spirit, and the way he always called me mi amor. He was the kind of person who encouraged you to press the gas, work hard, and above all, to follow your heart.
In 1982, Mauricio graduated from medical school with honors. He had every opportunity to build a successful career in Mexico City. Instead, he and his young pregnant wife chose a different path. They moved to Cuetzalan, a small mountain town hidden in the Sierra Norte of Puebla, dedicating their lives to serving the local Indigenous communities through medicine, research, and compassionate care.
He chose the path that mThat simple phrase has echoed throughout my life.ade the least sense on paper, but the most sense to his heart.
Because of him, I first visited Cuetzalan as a young girl. I still remember the long winding roads disappearing into the clouds while my parents played boleros in the car. I remember arriving in a town wrapped in mist, where people still wore their traditional clothing with dignity, where time seemed to slow, and where the rhythm of life followed nature rather than urgency.
Looking back now, I realize I wasn’t only discovering a beautiful place.
I was discovering another way of living.
Cuetzalan remains one of the places that has most profoundly shaped my understanding of community, sustainability, simplicity, and belonging. It is a place where cooperation still matters, where ancestral wisdom continues to guide daily life, and where abundance is measured less by accumulation than by relationships.
It has taken me many years to fully understand the courage it took for my brother and his wife to build a life there. They chose service over status, purpose over prestige, and community over convenience.
They followed their hearts.
As I grieve his passing, I find myself returning not only to memories of him, but to the spaces that formed both of us. Places have a way of becoming teachers. They quietly shape our values, our dreams, and the lives we eventually build.
The space he leaves inside our lives and hearts feels immense, and will forever be held by the memory of his devotion, his silly laughter, and his strong presence. It lives in the rainy streets of Cuetzalan, in the scent of wet earth and cloud forest, in the simple act of drinking a cup of coffee while the rain falls softly around me.
Perhaps this is why the places we remember never truly leave us.
They continue living within us.
As you move through this week, I invite you to reflect:
What place has quietly shaped the person you are becoming?
With love,
GabrielaFounder, Suddha Prem
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