I have a decorative screen in my apartment, which I use in lieu of a bedroom door — there isn’t one in my open floor plan. The screen was painted by a VietNamese artist named LeBaDang, and I’ve had it for more than 40 years. Jerry and I bought it years ago on a trip to San Francisco, before we had the kids. I thought about selling it when I moved from Rochester, and again when I moved to this apartment — but didn’t. Neither of the kids wants it. The couple who looked at my apartment and took over the lease loved the screen and loved the way it blocked looking right into the bedroom, and asked if they could buy it.
Selling it now is the sensible thing to do, and I’m going to track down a price and make the deal. The screen doesn’t really work in Sara’s house, and because of it’s size it’s unlikely to work in any place that I’ll live from now on.
I have a bit of a twinge about letting it go. The screen is one of those early-in-our marriage things that takes me back to when we were building a home and a life together.
I still have the Asian chest, and Jerry’s desk, and one more thing, which I’ll show you in the next post.