I watch CBS Sunday Morning every week. Or at least I try to. Its part of my Sunday morning ritual — a carry-over from the days before I was a mom when I would lounge around in my PJs, sipping my two cups of coffee and reading the local paper while watching this show that’s always felt like a magazine on screen with its off-beat profiles and interesting interviews.

I still enjoy my coffee, although perhaps not as leisurely, but the newspaper is gone and now I have to negotiate with the toddler to watch my show instead of Disney Channel cartoons. I’m lucky if I catch the whole thing (thank goodness for DVR).

There was a segment on yesterday’s episode that really stuck with me. It was about Captain Scott Smiley who lost his vision after a car bomb in Iraq sent shards of glass into his eyes and brain. He didn’t let this stop him from living though and has since returned to active duty. His story is truly inspiring but what struck me the most was how he’s never seen his children — they were born after the the car bomb stole his vision — and how incredibly heartbreaking that is. But I imagine that his other senses are heightened because of his vision loss. There was a scene where he was running in a race and his son was on the sideline cheering him on. He couldn’t see him there but I bet he could pick his son’s voice out of the crowd.

This got me to thinking. What would it be like if I couldn’t see? If I closed my eyes, even for just a few minutes, what would I “see” that I didn’t before? The sweetness in my son’s young voice. The scent of his baby shampoo mixed with the cereal he loves to eat. The soft touch of his little hand.

Close your eyes. What do you see? When you open them, click over to CBS and watch the video of Captain Smiley for yourself. Then come back and let me know how it moved you.

One of my fondest childhood memories is of going to the annual summer carnival.

I remember that it was held in a great, big field before that field was transformed into a shopping center. Then it was moved to a field closer to the fire department. When that happened, it felt like the carnival got smaller, but it could have been my childhood impression.

I’ve always loved that every town in the county where I’m from hosts a summer carnival. Some are bigger than others but they all happen during different weeks so that you could visit them all.

This year, I took my son to my hometown carnival. He loved the merry-go-round but that was it. Then, we took him to the carnival in our new hometown. I was so taken by the difference between the two. Ours is a little more kid-friendly and less expensive. He loved the swings – you know the ones that go around in a circle – the cars, and the bounce house.

What I loved was that we could walk to the carnival from our house and the nostalgia I felt for summers past.

I can’t wait for all the summer carnivals to come!