In the quaint village of Glenbarr, nestled between rolling hills and the whispering sea, lived an elderly barber named Finn. His tiny shop, with its weathered wooden sign that read "Finn’s Shaves & Cuts," was a beloved fixture in the community. For decades, Finn had been the village’s barber, confidant, and storyteller.
One chilly morning, a young boy named Eamon wandered into Finn’s shop. Eamon was on the brink of becoming a teenager and had recently grown the faintest hint of peach fuzz on his upper lip. He plopped down in the old leather chair and nervously said, "Mr. Finn, I think it’s time for my first shave."
Finn’s eyes twinkled as he placed a warm towel on Eamon’s face. "Ah, the first shave," he murmured, "it’s a rite of passage, lad. You’ve come to the right place."
As Finn skillfully worked the lather into Eamon’s skin, he began to tell tales of his own youth, of the adventures he’d had and the lessons he’d learned. Eamon listened intently, the stories filling him with a sense of excitement and curiosity about the world.
With steady hands, Finn took the razor and began the gentle process of shaving away the fine hairs. Each stroke was precise, deliberate, a testament to years of practice and care. When he was done, Eamon looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw a boy on the brink of manhood.
"Thank you, Mr. Finn," Eamon said, grinning from ear to ear. "I’ll never forget this day."
Finn smiled, knowing that for every shave he gave, he also imparted a bit of wisdom, a bit of magic, that would stay with his customers long after they’d left his chair.
Therapy Bits 
Talk to me! I love comments!