You know that age-old question: Do you think time travel exists? Well—it does, and with Casey Andrews as our pilot, takes us on a journey through time as if it’s her god-given right. Oh My Heart, Oh My Home pulls you inward, on a pilgrimage through love, life, loss, and the way stars bind and connect us all. Each moment pulses with humanity—a symphony of aching and healing, all at once. Words woven into stories on stage, this show will gently reach into your heart and remind you: you are not alone. As Andrews projects her voice, undeniably made for poetry, we can’t help but be carried home.

As Andrews stands in the space she has shaped into her Kingdom, she is accompanied by two stars – One, is Jack Brett – an absolute musical genius. Surrounded by his instruments, Jack conjures vocals and soundscapes that carry us seamlessly from one scene to the next, amplifying every felt emotion, a vessel of transcendence. The other, a dollhouse. Each room veiled behind its own curtain of cloth, gradually unveiling its secrets as the story unfolds — a magical show and tell.

We meet our stars: Freddy — the granddaughter. Howard — the grandfather. Winnie — the grandmother, now passed. And of course, Otto — the faithful Scottish Terrier.

Sometimes, life feels like the stars themselves. Bright, familiar, guiding. And sometimes — like for Howard, after losing Winnie — it becomes the darkness in between. An ocean of wreckage, forgotten clutter, the heavy quiet left behind. When you’ve lived one kind of life for as long as you can remember, and suddenly that life shifts — one of your constants, the brightest stars in your milky way, gone — you’re left learning how to navigate by new light. How to walk again. It can be clumsy, clunky and even desperate. Too lost in your sea of darkness to remain tethered. The thing about tragedy is, it’s not a meteor you can see coming,  but it leaves craters in your soul just the same.

Freddy’s birthday arrives, with a meteor storm looming on the horizon. She chooses to spend it at her grandfather’s house, leaning into tradition — the two of them stretched out on the roof, watching the sky light up together. But then, the unexpected: a meteor falls and shatters, crashing down right in front of the house. A fragment of space scattered at their feet.

“It wouldn’t fit in the palm of your hand, but the idea of it swallows Howard whole.”

By morning, on Freddy’s birthday, Howard has vanished. And so, Andrews begins to peel back the curtains, room by room, revealing memories tucked inside each space. Drawing us deeper into her world. With the roof of the dollhouse lifted, home videos flicker across the screen — connecting past to present, memory to starlight. We walk with Freddy as she rummages through Howards study looking for any clues as to where he might be, discovering painful truths and a deeper glimpse into Winnies old life. 

“The Earth is spinning about one thousand miles per hour, but we don’t feel it, we would only feel it if it changed.” And when Howard’s world tilts off its axis, sending shockwaves through everything Freddy knows, she stands at the edge — confused, fraying, on the verge of unraveling. But then, like a tether, she finds Winnie’s folder, pulling her back before she comes undone.

Winnie once tended to the city’s quiet lungs through the Urban Forest Project — a constellation of trees, each one tagged with its own email address. And in this simple, almost whimsical idea, something profoundly human unfurls: people writing letters to trees. Strangers reaching out, not expecting a reply, but needing to be heard. Each message a small act of hope, a wish cast into the leaves.

It’s here we glimpse something essential — Even in a world spinning fast and fractured, beneath all the noise, people are simply looking for connection. To feel rooted. To feel less alone.

Every corner of this home holds a story; every room, a memory; every wall, a moment suspended in time. Like the stars overhead, you can look around and see echoes of moments that unfolded years ago, still shining. Andrews invites us on a journey through it all — shifting effortlessly from humour to heartache in a single breath. Her language is poetic yet grounded, always inviting, making sure we’re right beside her every step of the way. Her humanity pulling us in and speaking to ours.

Thats what this story boils down to, really. At its heart, it’s a story about the beauty of being human. About the way we instinctively reach for one another’s heartstrings — tugging gently, again and again, until something softens, until we find ourselves slowly, quietly, stepping into each other’s worlds. It’s about the way we wander into the lives of others, catching intimate glimpses of the souls that move through this universe — souls stitched from stars. Stars that carry echoes of our past and glimmers of our future. “Where we can simply look up and witness moments that happened years ago.”

We are all constellations of stories — weaving together a web of connection that spans time and space.
At its core, this is a story about life and grief, and how the two are forever entwined. Grief, after all, is the most honest reflection of love. Oh my heart, Oh my home is a reminder to look for the light, to find the love inside your sorrow, and to hold tight to the people who anchor you.

This is a story of Freddy and Howard — but I have no doubt that, somewhere within it, you’ll recognise a story of yourself.

Andrews is a force to be reckoned with, you’ve got absolutely no choice but to jump on board and get blasted off into the depth of your soul.

Recommended drink: A soul hugging Hot Toddy, full of a variety of spices to warmth every bit of you while you’re taken on a ride through your past, future and heart.

Performances of Oh My Heart, Oh My Home have now concluded at the Adelaide Fringe.