I wrote 'For Peter Pan on her 70th birthday' as a gift for my mother (for her seventieth birthday). My mother grew up playing Peter Pan in Davenport, Iowa. As a child I looked at pictures scattered around my grandparents’ house of my mother wearing green tights and flying.

Before our final workshop of 'The Treasurer', I board a bus to visit my grandmother. I’ve been readying the play for production, but she does not know it exists. Late at night, toiling over her favorite phrases, a fact starts bobbing: I’ve given much more time to this play than to her.