I brought in the New Year on my knees.
Not in prayer. Not in reflection. Not in some deep, symbolic, “new year, new me” moment.
Nope.
My clumsy self fell while running to catch the fireworks.
Me and Sparkle had to laugh because what else could we do? Some people enter the year with elegance. I entered mine with speed, poor coordination, and concrete. Very humbling. Very on brand.
But honestly, it was funny. The kind of funny that makes the moment stick in your memory more than the fireworks itself. There I was, trying to make it in time for the big beautiful moment, and my knees said, “Not so fast, madam.”
So that was January’s opening scene.
No soft lighting. No perfect countdown picture. Just me, on the ground, laughing at myself before the year even got started properly.
And somehow, that felt right.
Because if life has taught me anything, it is that the beautiful moments do not always come neatly wrapped. Sometimes they come with a bruise, a laugh, and somebody beside you who can laugh with you instead of making it awkward.
That was the start.
A Caribbean Spot in the Cold
A day or two after that, we were driving around looking for food and ended up finding a Caribbean spot.
And listen.
The place was jumping.
The people, the energy, the music, the whole thing felt like a little piece of home had been dropped into the middle of winter. You know when you walk into a place and immediately feel the temperature change, not because of heat, but because of people? That was the vibe.
The music was going. People were moving. The room had life in it.
It reminded me how Caribbean people carry warmth with them. We can be in the coldest place and somehow still find a way to make a room feel alive. Food, music, jokes, loud greetings, somebody dancing who did not come there to dance but the rhythm catch them anyway.
It was awesome.
But the cold?
The cold was still outside waiting for us like an unpaid bill.
So we enjoyed the vibes, took in the energy, felt good for a while, and then remembered that Caribbean joy has limits when winter is involved.
We left.
Because yes, the spot was nice.
But I am still a tropical woman. Let us not get carried away.
Door to Door Again
The next day, I did something I had not done in forever.
I visited random ice cream stores.
No big plan. No appointment. No warm introduction. I just stopped by, walked in, spoke to whoever was there, and dropped off cards.
Old school door sales.
And whew, I had not done anything like that in a long time.
There is something about walking into a business cold that humbles you. It strips away all the fancy marketing talk. No campaign. No polished funnel. No “brand positioning deck.” Just you, your face, your product, and a business owner who may or may not have time for you.
It reminded me of the early days. When you do not wait for everything to be perfect. You just move. You talk to people. You ask questions. You introduce yourself. You make the offer. You deal with the awkwardness.
And honestly, I think every entrepreneur needs to go back to that sometimes.
Not because it is glamorous. It is not.
But because it reconnects you to the ground.
You remember what it feels like to sell directly. You remember what people actually ask. You remember how fast someone can understand or misunderstand what you do. You remember that business is still very human, no matter how digital everything gets.
Some stores were quick stops. Some conversations were better than expected. Some were probably just polite.
That is how it goes.
But I left feeling like, okay, I still have that muscle.
A little rusty, yes. But still there.
Back Home, Back to Reality
Then, just like that, the trip was over.
I was on my flight back to Trinidad, and the flight attendant was a whole show. She was making jokes, balancing trays on her head, entertaining passengers, and keeping the whole mood light.
Some people just have that thing.
They can walk into a plane aisle and make strangers feel like they are part of something. I love people like that. People who bring personality into ordinary work. People who make the day lighter without making a big speech about it.
And then I landed back home.
By the 16th, I was back at it again.
Another shipment came in, and when I say stress, I mean stress.
Customs had me in a chokehold.
For two days, I could not get the goods out. Two days of calls, follow ups, checking, waiting, asking questions, sending information, and trying very hard not to let frustration climb up into my throat and set up residence there.
If you know, you know.
There is a special kind of tired that comes from logistics. It is not just physical. It is mental. It is the kind of tired where you keep refreshing your brain like something might change if you worry harder.
And the worst part is, customers are waiting.
They do not always see the customs delays, the back and forth, the small fires behind the scenes. They just know they paid for something and they want it. Fair enough. I would too.
But on the business side, you are juggling the shipment, the documents, the delivery schedule, customer updates, team coordination, and your own blood pressure.
A glamorous life, truly.
The Day Goods Clear, We Move
Finally, the shipment cleared.
And once goods clear, there is no long celebration. No confetti. No slow clap.
We move.
At YES, we have a practice where the day goods clear is the day deliveries begin. That sounds efficient, and it is. But let me tell you, efficiency has a cost, and sometimes that cost is your entire evening.
We had several deliveries throughout Trinidad, plus one going over to Tobago.
Our sister isle had to get sorted too.
Sometimes I do not think people really see what this work takes. They see the machine arrive. They see the delivery photo. They see the post. They see the customer happy.
But they do not see the full route.
They do not see the loading, the planning, the calls, the delays, the “send me your location again please,” the dark roads, the long drives, the last minute changes, the places where your GPS starts acting like it too is confused.
They do not see us heading into the darkest dark because somebody’s business is waiting on that equipment.
And that part matters to me.
Because YES is not just sitting behind a desk selling machines. We go. We show up. We deliver. We train. We troubleshoot. We find the address. We call again when we cannot find the address. We make it happen.
There are nights when deliveries run late. Very late.
The kind of late where the country quiets down, the roads feel different, and you start wondering why you chose a life that involves customs, equipment, and heavy lifting.
Then the customer gets their machine.
And you remember.
This is not just a delivery. This is someone’s production plan. Someone’s new product line. Someone’s next step. Someone’s “I am trying to build something and I need this to work.”
So yes, sometimes we are out in the wee hours.
Sometimes it is tiring.
Sometimes it is pure madness.
But the work matters.
Check out the video below to see some of what that looked like.
Soca Has No Respect for My Body
Later in the month, I went to a burn out at Xtra Foods.
Yoo.
My body was not ready.
I do not know who I thought I was. In my mind, I still had stamina. In reality, my body was sending resignation letters in real time.
But soca?
Soca does not care about your fitness level.
Soca enters your soul and takes over management. One minute you are standing there like a sensible person. Next minute, waist moving, knees negotiating, lungs asking if we have health insurance.
There is no workout like soca.
Forget the treadmill. Put on the right song and suddenly everybody is an athlete.
A tired athlete, yes.
But an athlete.
And that is the thing about Carnival season. Even when you are tired, even when work is stressing you, even when the month has been full, the music does something. It pulls you back into your body. It reminds you that joy is also necessary.
Even if your knees complain after.
A Gentleman Still Counts
Somewhere between shipments, customs stress, deliveries, and soca cardio, I also went on a friend date with Nigel to the cinema.
And my word.
I forgot what it was like to go out with an actual gentleman.
Nigel take win.
From the pick up to the drop off, the whole thing was thoughtful and easy. No weirdness. No confusion. No big performance. Just care, manners, and good company.
And I loved that.
Sometimes the simple things stand out because they are not as common as they should be. Being picked up properly. Feeling considered. Enjoying the conversation. Being dropped home safely. Not having to manage the whole outing like a project.
Imagine that.
A woman just going out and enjoying herself without having to carry the clipboard of life.
Beautiful.
It was a reminder that softness still has a place. Even in a month full of work, stress, heavy deliveries, and problem solving, there can still be moments where you are just a woman being treated well.
And honestly, I needed that.
January Was Not Neat, But It Was Full
January did not come with a clean theme.
It was not one of those months where everything lined up nicely and made sense.
It started with me falling while trying to catch fireworks. Then came Caribbean music in the cold, random ice cream store visits, a flight home with a hilarious flight attendant, customs stress, long deliveries, Tobago, dark roads, soca burn out, and a cinema date that reminded me gentlemen still exist.
It was messy.
It was funny.
It was tiring.
It was real.
And maybe that is the point.
Some months do not arrive to teach one big polished lesson. Some months just show you the range of your own life. One minute you are laughing on the ground. Next minute you are selling. Next minute you are tracking a shipment. Next minute you are dancing like your knees are under warranty. Next minute you are sitting in a cinema remembering that being cared for feels nice.
That was January.
Not neat.
But full.
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