What Survives the Cold: Lessons from 32 Years in Business

How Loss, Resilience, and Starting Over Redefined My Path

“Neocaridina shrimp survivor symbolizing resilience after loss”

I was devastated.

Four tanks full of fish—gone.

Not one left.

The hardest loss was my shrimp. My beautiful Neocaridina shrimp.

I had cared for them for five years. I started with a pack of ten, and they prospered. Every year I added five more to introduce new bloodlines. By late 2025, I had well over 1,000 shrimp in my original tank, with thriving colonies in three additional tanks alongside guppies, endlers, and swordtails. I also kept one tank with cichlids only, the only tank without my precious shrimp.

We had been through severe weather before. The worst was June 2023, when we were without power for ten days in 110-degree heat. We saved our fish and shrimp with frozen water bottles and battery-powered bubblers. Against all odds, they survived.

This time was different.

The power went out during the only below-freezing days we had all year. We did what we could—bubblers, heated bottles—but the cold won. By the next day, the water temperatures had dropped too far. I lost everything.

I decided to clean the tanks and sell them. One by one, they went. First, the 100-gallon cichlid tank. Then the 40-gallon community tank. No fish. No shrimp. Just plants. I removed them, cleaned the tanks, replaced the water for the plants, and tried to move on.

When I reached my original tank, the one where it all began, I broke down.

It was heavily planted, and as I started siphoning the water, I thought I saw movement. I told myself I was imagining things—grief can do that.

But then I saw it again.

I carefully drained the tank until only about three inches of water remained. The water temperature was 38 degrees. I carried the tank outside and gently inspected every plant. There it was.

A shrimp.

Then another.

And another.

Against all logic, there were survivors.

I rushed the tank to the backseat of my Lincoln and drove straight home. I carefully collected every shrimp I could find—twelve in total, all different stages of life. I emptied the tank completely, scrubbed it down, reused clean sand I had left, and put the old sponge filters back in along with a heater.

Holding my breath, I returned the survivors to their home.

Today is day three. They are thriving.

Those twelve shrimp gave me enough hope to continue my fishkeeping journey. The photo I’m sharing shows two of them who came over this afternoon, as if to say hello, and maybe thank you for not giving up.

The Lesson Beneath the Surface

I share this story because it mirrors something much bigger.

I truly believed that 2025 might be the last year of my masonry business. In 32 years, I had never experienced the perfect storm that 2025 brought.

One challenge after another. Delays. Losses. Pressure. Moments where it felt like everything was freezing around me.

At the end of 2025, both my shrimp and I were on the edge of disaster.

Now, at the beginning of 2026, I can finally see light at the end of the tunnel (and hopefully it's not a train.)

There is hope. Clearer, warmer waters are ahead.

Sometimes those of us who have been in business a long time get complacent. We think we’ve seen it all. We think nothing can take us down.

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

There is always something new to learn, and sometimes those lessons are painful. There will always be things beyond our control. Sometimes we make the right decisions. Sometimes we don’t. And sometimes there is no choice at all—and those moments hurt the most.

But here’s the truth:

Don’t give up.

Do your best. And whatever the outcome, remember—you are a survivor.

Starting over can be heartbreaking…

But it can also be the most powerful feeling in the world.

What shrimp taught me about business