Pragmatism - Vice or Virtue?

She looked down at this little bundle in her arm and she knew that she made the right decision. Her life has changed. It was perfect now.

She put her baby in her crib and closed the door. Walked down the stairs and went to the kitchen, pulled out a can and popped the tab.

She took a long drink, put the can down on the counter and looked around. The autumn sun was shining through the glass doors that lined the entire wall of the living room. Glinting off the antique Chinese jars, the soft light made her wooden floors shine like they were on fire.

"Beautiful", she thought. "My house is beautiful. My life is beautiful".

Then she sat down on the sofa and cried.

Although she didn't really know what she was crying about.

Because it was true. Her life was perfect.

She had the perfect child. The perfect house. The perfect partner. The perfect job.

She had a wonderful nanny who took care of her baby and managed the house. Her partner was one of the most obliging men she had ever met in her life. He took care of her, gave in to (most of) her whims and fancies, only wanted to make her happy.

Her job allowed her to come home at decent hours. It also paid her a decent salary. And she had the nicest of colleagues. She didn't even have to travel that much anymore.

Her weeks had a rhythm to them that most working mothers saw as an extreme luxury. She knew exactly where she would be and what she would be doing most weekdays and nights.

And they always treated themselves to a night out every weekend.

Once every couple of months, she would get on a plane and spend a girlie weekend with her best friend.

She was happy that things had gone according to plan. Her baby had a wonderful environment to grow up in with the added bonus of having grandparents right next door.

She managed to create a perfect world for her child.

She worked so hard to get where she was and yet, she was still unsatisfied. And at times, even unhappy.

All because, she still loved him.