Rock me now in your gentle healing hands

The shoulder massages start as a silly little joke, a way for ten-year-old Patrick to try and weasel out of drying the dishes like he’s supposed to. He settles in behind him mom, says something like you look stressed, let me help and will rub away the tension while his dad rolls his eyes in the kitchen with a knowing smile. But he gets good at them, genuinely good, his thumbs learning how to chase down knots and ease them out with the sort of precise, determined gentleness he will later use on his guitar strings. You have healing hands, honey, his mom tells him more than once, and Patrick takes the praise to heart.