Love is Not Efficient

LETTERS TO MY FORMER SELVES

Love is inefficient.

And I'm very impatient with inefficiencies.

If a minute is wasted waiting for a late GoCar, I'm pissed. If an 8-minute wait turns into a 46-minute time-kill, I'm too pissed to even whinge, too peeved to hold accountability for Jakarta's serious inefficiencies.

I can always blame.

I can file a futile complaint to the ride-hailing division of the nation's beloved unicorn.

I can add unnecessary weight on top of my daily headaches as a wife and mom.

But I refuse to become inefficient, swallowing my secondborn's major disappointment in me whole for picking her up late.

"You know, I'm so sad that you were late, Mom," she uttered, midway through her favorite avocado with peanut butter and sprinkles post-nap snack.

This wasn't the first time I was late.

Right then, my faculty of reasoning went into overdrive before my 5-year-old. Seeing how ridiculous the situation was, I eventually gave up on rhetoric altogether.

The pivot was to invite her into the kitchen to make traditional Chinese herbal tea…