We're heading north with an hour of driving to go. I glance at my watch whose dial records the date, I glance at my daughter whose face records the light. The moment is good. I turn to her suddenly.
``When you think of the future,'' I ask, ``Is it like looking forward or is it like looking up?''
``Daddy,'' she smiles slowly out of the past, ``We're heading north with south behind us, right? The future, then, is in the northeast.''
``Perhaps a little more ... north-northeast,'' she adds.