People often say that we each carry the geography of our childhood around with us at all times — that our hometowns are stamped onto our soul.

But as I learned several years ago, while traveling for nearly a month on the road, the people who are close to us are what always make us feel at home, no matter what town or state we find ourselves in at the time.

This is an idea explored by “Gibson Fleck,” the new, student-created stage musical now having its premiere at the University of Michigan. With music and lyrics by A. J. Holmes and Carlos Valdes, and a book by Ali Gordon, “Fleck” tells the story of a young man (Will Burton) who, after being abandoned by a series of adopted families while growing up, finally starts to put down roots and make a home for himself in New Haven, Connecticut. But when news reaches him that his mother (Holly Grossman), whom he never knew, has died, Gibson travels to Virginia to find the rest of his unknown family, and perhaps even himself.

There’s much promise in “Fleck,” which the the three students, as well as director Linda Goodrich, impressively pulled together from scratch in less than a year. But in its current state, the show’s main issue is that its secondary story about Caroline, Gibson’s mother, feels far more compelling and genuine than that of the title character.

Indeed, the show’s second act squarely belongs to Caroline, as Gibson and the audience simultaneously learn, through her diary, how she got pregnant with Gibson at 17, and why she gave the baby up for adoption, though she desperately wanted to keep him. It’s a wrenching story with powerful moments, and through Valdes and Holmes’ score, we get a good sense of this woman’s yearnings and regrets.

Sadly, the same can’t yet be said for Gibson. Yes, the show is, in part, Gibson’s quest to find himself; but Gibson’s story often feels problematic and contrived, and thus seems far less believable. For instance, as young Gibson bounces around from place to place, and family to family, there’s no threat of danger or violence, though it’s pretty hard to imagine a person more vulnerable than an abandoned child; Gibson’s avoidance of the social services system, after he’s first adopted as a baby, strains credulity (as do his first “parents,” who turn him out because he’s not the chess prodigy they’ve raised him to be); and the psychological toll of being handed off repeatedly as a child — the trust issues alone would be staggering — largely goes unaddressed.

Plus, when Gibson arrives in Vienna, Virginia and meets his grandparents for the first time, he quickly shifts from planning to go right back to New Haven that same day, to staying on indefinitely in Vienna and getting a job. And because the life Gibson starts to lead in Vienna pales in every way to the life he’d established in New Haven — with the exception of having two newly-discovered blood relatives in Vienna — the critical choice he’s forced to make isn’t really a choice at all. In order for the audience to invest in a character’s decision, and to feel some kind of suspense, we have to feel the equal weight of two diametric pulls, and in Gibson’s case, the scales just aren’t balanced. His decision feels predestined from the start, so the show sometimes lacks dramatic momentum.

Even so, Goodrich choreographs and stages the show well, and Grossman skillfully, affectingly provides the show with its emotional center. And while Burton does some fine dancing and singing, as does Gibson’s love interest Phoebe, played by Alex Finke, the two characters both need to be more sharply defined.

The show’s opening number, “The Boy Without a Name,” efficiently packs in a lot of backstory while also building to a stirring musical climax; and more generally, the song lyrics often move the story forward in surprising and interesting ways. But at times, I felt the music hadn’t yet achieved its full potential in terms of staying power.

Nonetheless, in addition to the ensemble’s fine vocal and acting performances, Mary Clare Blake Booth’s lighting design (despite some late lighting cues on opening night) adds much to the show’s atmosphere and tone; Catherine Walker Adams’ music direction is terrific; costume designer Corey Davis suffers an occasional misstep (like the distractingly odd outfit Phoebe wears to seek out Gibson in Vienna), but otherwise provided the characters with simple, evocative looks; Vincent Mountain designed the spare, scaffolding-inspired, all-white set of moving parts; and Jim Lillie provided the show’s solid sound design.

Obviously, “Gibson” showcases the young creators' considerable potential; and given more time for development, the show could yet become a memorable, more poignant musical.

So here’s hoping “Gibson”’s journey doesn’t end here.

Jenn McKee is the entertainment digital journalist for AnnArbor.com. Reach her at jennmckee@annarbor.com or 734-623-2546, and follow her on Twitter @jennmckee.