Starting Over: My Journey Back to NYC
I took the train on Sunday morning from Hudson to Penn Station. The ride was gorgeous—way better than taking the Metro-North out of Wassaic. That route is peaceful and wrapped in nature, sure, but you don’t get the Hudson River shimmering through the window the whole way down. My head was glued to the glass, soaking it all in.
My mind was spinning. I was anxious but excited about starting my summer health internship at Porter Novelli. It’s one of the top PR agencies in the country, and I don’t want to disappoint. I hope I dress well, ask smart questions, and keep a notebook of my daily progress. I want to be a star intern—maybe even land a full-time role if the stars align.
But more than anything, I want to stay curious. Jillian Janaczek, Porter Novelli’s CEO, said it best: “Curiosity is more powerful and more durable than certainty.” That stuck with me. I may not know everything on day one, but I’m ready to learn, to ask, and to see every moment as a possibility instead of a pressure. That feels like the best way to begin.
I was also heading into the city to meet the people who might become my aides—those I’d trust to dress, shower, feed me, and, yep, see me naked after only meeting once. It can be fun—we grab coffee and chat—but it’s also exhausting. You start with small talk and end with someone literally becoming your arms and legs for 10 weeks. No pressure, right?
After we pulled into Penn Station, we hopped on the subway up to the Upper West Side. It was a windy spring day, but the sun was out just enough to keep us warm on our beautiful walk to my grandparents’ apartment. To make it even better, I rigged my phone up on my wheelchair like a mini TV and streamed the Knicks-Pistons playoff game while driving. It went down to the wire—the refs missed a foul at the end, but the Knicks won. It felt symbolic, like Charley was back in the Big Apple.
First up, I interviewed Dani from Bogotá, Colombia. She was incredibly sweet. We met at a wine bar, shared a cheese plate, and chatted over drinks—me with a glass of red wine, her with a beer. It was fun but also productive. I walked her back to my grandparents’ place on the Upper East Side and we practiced a bed-to-chair transfer before calling it a night. She showed up early in a beautiful, shining gray dress—so thoughtful and professional. Honestly, she made a great impression.
The next morning, I took the subway down to Washington Square Park. It was a sunny 70-degree day and the park was buzzing with life—NYU students, professors, artists, professionals, and a few unhoused folks, all blending together in that classic New York way.
I met my second aide candidate there—a woman from Kazakhstan. She was sweet and opened up about leaving an abusive relationship. But she worked four days a week at a health food market, so I couldn’t really consider her for the role. We swapped numbers anyway—New York can feel lonely if you’re not connected. She also mentioned she’d worked as a massage therapist at the Four Seasons back in Kazakhstan and offered to work on me weekly. Honestly? Massage is huge for circulation when you’re in a chair all day—maybe even better than stretching or PT—so that felt like a win regardless.
After that, I swung by my favorite coffee shop on West 4th—the one where I used to do NYU homework and people-watch with an iced tea and lemon. I met a sweet 24-year-old German girl there, a writer with flexible hours and a bold, confident vibe. We tried a transfer, and when I asked if she thought she could do it, she laughed and flexed her muscles—“You kidding? I go to the gym.” After a successful lift, she grinned and said, “Let’s do it again.” She wasn’t afraid, she cared, and she even told me about the meals she could cook.
But after thinking it over, I decided Dani was the right fit. She had shown up early, handled the transfer well, and had a calm, caring energy that really stuck with me. I offered her the job that night, and she accepted.
Back home in Great Barrington, I found myself sitting at Rubi’s—my favorite local coffee shop where I had my first job back in high school, and where faint Bob Dylan always seems to be playing in the background. I ordered my usual iced tea with lemon and a sandwich and sat by the window, just soaking it all in. It was the perfect spot to reflect on everything—the whirlwind of NYC interviews, the nerves about starting my dream internship, and the reality of trusting someone new to help me with the most personal parts of my day. I had Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi open on the table, but honestly, I spent more time staring out the window than reading. There’s something about being back where you started that helps you process where you’re headed.
April was slow and full of showers, but I can feel May’s flowers blooming now. I return to NYC on May 25th. While I wait, I throw on my almond brown Beats and blast Chris Stapleton’s Starting Over—the perfect song for this moment. I sing along, ready to leave the Berkshires behind and head downtown:
“Well, the road rolls out like a welcome mat…
To a better place than the one we’re at…”
