The Years Passed Swiftly

Skylarks trilled over the quiet town of Simbirsk on the Volga, where the river makes a sharp bend. The river had just cleared of ice. The streets and gardens were filled with the chirping of birds and the birches swayed in the wind. There was the joy of spring in the air. There was great rejoicing in the Ulyanov home that day. The sun poured in through the windows, and the whistles of the river boats were clearly heard, for the house overlooked the Volga. As the mother bent over her newborn son’s cradle she wondered, “What will you be when you grow up? What does life hold in store for you?”

This was on April 22, 1870. Vladimir Ulyanov, the child who was born in the town of Simbirsk on the Volga that day, grew up to be the great Lenin.

The years passed swiftly. Volodya was now eight.

V.I. Lenin - The Story of His Life

Maria Prilezhayeva

First published in Russian in 1973

The years passed swiftly? No kidding. If we carry on at this rate Lenin will be dead by the end of page two.

Let's try me:

John-Paul was born. The years passed swiftly. He was now almost four. He was standing around thinking:

Run, run, the house is dark and cool, here is the outside, the sun, the heat, the sound of the sea over the dunes. Wheelbarrow. Put the ball in the barrow. Put the blocks in the barrow. Put the - run, run. There is a bird wheeling in the sky, there is a cloud. He says my name. There he is standing by the bush with the red flowers that look like toffee apple lips, there he is with the camera. He smiles and puts the camera to his eye, the bird calls out somewhere above the waves. That might be the click and squirk of mum cleaning the dishes through the white window, that shadow is my dad pushing the button on the camera.

Run, run.