From French Fries to “Small Fry”
There are two things I will almost never turn down—
a fresh basket of French fries…
and a moment worth celebrating.
French fries have always been my guilty pleasure.
Crispy edges, a golden color, a soft center, and that perfect sprinkle of salt…
they’re simple, comforting, and impossible to resist.
And let’s be honest—everyone has their favorite.
Some people swear by thin, crispy shoestring fries.
Others love a thick-cut steak fry with a soft, fluffy center.
Crinkle-cut, waffle fries, curly fries…
there’s a version for just about everyone.
And somehow, no matter how they’re served,
they always seem to bring people together.
Whether it’s sharing a plate across the table
or sneaking a few of someone else’s
(because of course, they always taste better that way),
French fries have a way of showing up in some of life’s best little moments.
But if I’m being honest…
my love for French fries didn’t start at just any table.
It started years ago in a little restaurant my great-uncle Edgar owned.
I wish I could remember the name of it now.
It’s one of those memories that feels so clear… and yet just out of reach.
What I do remember, though, is the fries.
Fresh-cut.
Still wearing a bit of their peel.
Golden, crisp, and served up in one of those nostalgic little cardboard boats.
No ketchup needed.
Just the flavor of the potato—and something special you can’t quite recreate.
Simple.
Real.
Unforgettable.
And, French fries have been tied to that feeling ever since.
The kind of thing that brings you back without even trying.
But recently…
“small fry” has taken on a whole new meaning.
Sometimes, the simplest photo says everything.
“Guess what?” came through in a text from my “sis” Amy.
It was quickly followed by this photo—her and her daughter Megan, holding up the tiniest little shirt that says “Small Fry.”
I love the excitement written all over their faces.
And if you look closely, you’ll see it—
Amy pointing with that proud, joyful smile that only comes from knowing something really special is on the way.
Even in a single photo…
you can feel it.
That kind of joy you don’t have to explain.
It made me smile.
It made me pause.
It made me reflect.
Because the things we call “small” in life…
they’re rarely small at all.
Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved French fries so much.
They’re simple.
They don’t try too hard.
But, they always seem to be right there in the middle of laughter, conversation, and memories being made.
From cardboard boats of fresh-cut fries in a little restaurant I can still picture in my mind…
to shared plates across the table…
to a tiny shirt that carries so much meaning…
life has a way of connecting the moments we never knew were related.
From French fries…
to a “small fry” on the way…
the sweetest parts of life always seem to come full circle.
And maybe that’s the real beauty of it all—
the small things,
the simple moments,
the ones we almost overlook…
are often the ones that mean the most. 💛
