weather, places, days

I think I must be extremely sensitive to weather. Weather triggers memories, nostalgia, for me, in the way that smells trigger them for most people. I can't tell you how many times I've walked out of the house in the morning only to be overwhelmed with the memory of another morning, a morning when the light and air and smells were just like this one. The light, dusty warmth of the street in Phnom Penh where I hailed a motorbike taxi to take me to work. The chilliness of a July morning at Wheaton, walking in the sun to the BGC. The promise and pineyness and stillness of the beginning of a day at Camp Timberline.
Does weather do this to you?

I just found out the my ten blind students, whom I thought would be in my class Monday, won't be here until the following Monday. Whoops. There go half my lesson plans for next week. For now, it's just me, two Vietnamese girls, and a Korean boy. Plugging away.