FROM the sepia tinted photographs of the 1950s at the back of the stage, a girl in a check shirt and pigtails smiles tentatively, standing between her Mom and Dad. With equal clarity, Claudette Sutherland's hour long one woman show, performed by the author, summons up a lost childhood of small towns and farmsteads seen through the back of a Buick, and uses a litany of place names and topography to evoke the journeys made by the girl and her parents as they criss crossed middle America, racing greyhounds.

This is the romance of the road, lovingly recalled by a woman who grew up accustomed to the death of animals, to uprootings and upheaval, but who in middle age cannot bear to let go of the father she loves more than anyone in the world. The relationship between the daughter and her irascible 88 year old father is portrayed with affectionate, exasperated humour, as she recalls his needless anxiety about money and his absolute certainty about the existence of God "I just look up".

It's a delicate piece, directed for the Matrix Theatre Company by Bob McCracken and sensitively performed by Claudette Sutherland. From a muted, desultory opening, which is not immediately engaging, it slowly builds to a moving fusion of landscape and memory, an extended exhalation of grief for the loss of a father, for unfulfilled ambitions and impossible yearnings for a return to the past.