(July 17, 2017, Somewhere in Iceland on a speeding train)

Goals

 

If the afternoon hike was to be free of complaint she needed sleep. As really all growing 14-year-olds do. But Iceland rushing by her window swarmed her eyes with stimulation. Making a nap seem far from possible. I explored some obsolete dad databases. And came to a dusty solution that had been planted during the earliest of her years. Would it still work?

 

The scenery was supportive. As sheep were in every foreground. But being a father often demands indirectness. Which is just another word for trickery. So I changed my sleep tactic into a game.

 

“Hey daughter of mine, how many sheep in the next 10 kilometers?”

 

“I don’t know, maybe seventy five.”

 

“I’m guessing you’re way low. Ninety five is my thinking. Chocolate bar to the winner.”

 

A pivot of her head began the counting. She made it to seventeen before subconscious memories flooded and her eyelids dropped. Counting sheep giving new and old meaning to sleep like a baby.