It’s 1956, late in an age of innocence, early in an age of upset. Theresa, who was just months away from taking her final vows as a nun, is now a newlywed. Horrified by the realities of married life – sex, a man, cooking, homemaking, and the loss of a quiet life of devotion and sisterhood – Theresa finds herself overwhelmed, exhausted and knee-deep in unpacking. She is visited by her mother, her sisters, the Welcome Wagon Ladies and her former Mother Superior, all of whom have something to give, and something to take. The play follows Theresa as she struggles to invent a home for faith and beauty in her new life.

It’s 1956, late in an age of innocence, early in an age of upset. Theresa, who was just months away from taking her final vows as a nun, is now a newlywed. Horrified by the realities of married life – sex, a man, cooking, homemaking, and the loss of a quiet life of devotion and sisterhood – Theresa finds herself overwhelmed, exhausted and knee-deep in unpacking. She is visited by her mother, her sisters, the Welcome Wagon Ladies and her former Mother Superior, all of whom have something to give, and something to take. The play follows Theresa as she struggles to invent a home for faith and beauty in her new life.

For thirty years, Ma and Emily have been living in a tiny cramped apartment in relative peace. Emily has mild brain damage, and Ma has raised her in exactly the wrong way to raise a child with mild brain damage. Emily is the object of adoration of Lamar, a young man with a severe learning disability with behavioral maladjustments (although his cognitive skills are excellent). When she loses her job, he immediately proposes. Shortly thereafter, we discover that Emily is expecting their child. Thrilled at the prospect of fatherhood and family bliss, Lamar assumes he and Emily will marry by week’s end. But when Ma refuses to let Emily marry because of a medical condition known as “hormone-head,” Lamar hangs his hammock and settles in for the long haul. The battle for the baby has begun.

1995. Boston. September. Late Morning. Traffic. PETER, about forty, shirtless, painfully thin and showing a few lesions, is sitting on the sill up center, looking out at the traffic. Dashing all over the apartment, unpacking an overnight bag and straightening things, ROCH, [pronounced Roshe; he uses a bit of French accent for it, but no one else does] ]about forty; serious, robust.