E Major

Too small, always too small, I think every time I catch a glimpse of my fingers. If I was born to immigrants, my parents would think I failed. My friends always groaned at their dreaded lessons that impeded on any fun activities they had planned after school. Their mom would pull up in the minivan (you know the one) yelling at them, "You're going to be late to piano lessons!" They'd groan, murmur a sadass goodbye, and teeter with their large backpacks towards their car. I'd watch with faint envy. I still had gotten some musical training. I had played violin then cello (almost bass, but alas, I was five inches too short) and been forced to sing in music class until seventh grade when damns stopped being given. Yet, I would trade all of that just to hear, "Hey kid, want to learn piano?"