Tom doesn’t stay because he loves the farm. He stays because leaving would feel like betrayal.

“I like what you do, Dad.”

That sentence isn’t about farming. It’s about belonging.

A son doesn’t just admire his father — he organizes himself around him. He absorbs his endurance. His silence. His sense of duty. Even his frustration.

And without realizing it, Tom becomes loyal to a role that slowly burns him alive.

This is what unexamined loyalty does: it turns love into self-erasure.

It makes you confuse staying with honoring.

Endurance with strength.

Sacrifice with meaning.

Sons don’t inherit what a father says. They inherit what he carries without words.

And sometimes, what we call loyalty is just fear of becoming someone different.

If this touched something uncomfortable in you, pause for a moment and ask yourself:

𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝙖𝙢 𝙄 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙮𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙤… 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛?

Next Thursday: Murph — the daughter who carries the father’s unfinished dream.

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤: 𝘈 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘢