Give me a reason to get out.

There's a tiny spot on Ellis Island that's left to itself. Most of the place is surveyed and cataloged down to the nearest inch, or in the process of having that done. But there's a small part where nobody minds it too much. It's right by the water tower, in the northwest part of the place, past the main tourist attractions and the park service offices and near the bridge to New Jersey, just off a corridor right next to the truck depot. It's easy to miss since there's only one door which goes there, and if you don't go through you'd never know.

It's not entirely abandoned. It's got boards set down for a little path through the grass, and a round flowerbed in the middle of the grass that's clearly there because of human action. There are some small offices right there, and the watertower gets its fair share of attention. But nobody seems to tend to the plants, or give them much thought. They're left to themselves.

I walked through it for a while today so I could stay outside a bit longer on my lunch break. I climbed on some things, walked in puddles, flipped over boards and rocks, and took in a gorgeous view of the bay and the Manhattan skyline. I went back through the grass and then turned around to watch it move. It's uncut feral grass, and without anyone telling it what it should look like it's tall enough for the wind to move through it and make waves. Not big ones that cover entire hillsides - just a little strip between two old buildings - but more waves of grass than I've seen for months, maybe years.

When I looked at it move, I didn't think about Ellis Island or New York City, I just thought about the grass. I watched the waves, and I thought, This is where I come from. Not California, not exactly: I come from a place where grass moves in waves. It's taken me a long time to find that place.

I had to go back inside soon after, but I'll be going back next chance I get.