What happened to happy mama?
The question hung in the air as I sat at the piano, my fingers perched gently on the keyboard. A beautiful piece by Debussy waited in front of me; one of my favorites. But somehow I couldn’t quite conjure up the desire to push down on the black and white keys. Like the actual undertaking of playing a song was too joyous for the cloud of doubt and dejection that seemed permanently suspended over my head.