My name is Huckleberry Finn but I'm not the same boy you met when I wrote my book, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." Those adventures were mine alright but they're a long time gone. I'm a grown man now and I'm still depending on nobody. I spent my whole life raising myself and I ain't bout to quit now. Old habits die hard or so they say.

I got a hankering for going back to St. Petersburg all of a sudden. I've traveled all over west and have been rather settled in California, there's always some kind of migrant farm work to be done in their parts. I feel I've done a lot more for myself out here than the town of St. Petersburg would ever allow. That town wanted nothing to do with me unless I was sivilized and I hated being sivilized. So why am I going back there now with all that I know? The truth is that I don't know; I don't know why I'm going but I'm on my way.

You don't make a whole lot of money as a migrant farmer but it was enough to get me from California to Nevada territory by train. It would be unlike me to not have a plan and I always have one: I was going to Missouri by the way under of the train. Those rails down yonder would hold me the way. I don't read real good but I know by gut what train I oughta take. Took me a whole week by my Lord witness I made it to St. Petersburg.

My first thought was that some things never change and this town was living proof. I walked past ole Joe Harper's house and felt a sting of memory. How was ole Joe? Does he still look the same as I remember him? I hope so. I don't think I could picture him any other way and what would happen if I passed him out on the street and didn't recognize him? I passed Ben Rogers' house next and those same thoughts occured to me again. I felt a sharp pain when I came across Miss Watson's house. Good lady, Miss Watson was; trying to sivilize me and all and I never appreciated it. At least she tried and that's a lot more than I can say for most people. I then drew a breath and began to wonder why I even bothered to come back here. That was when I saw a group of young women dressed up in their best. I didn't know who they were but by the way of the churh bells and by the way they were giggling about, I decided to go along with them.

"Excuse me," I galloped behind them. The women stopped to look at me and most of them began to giggle again except for one.

"Good morning," the nice one said with a curtsy smile.

"Is," I drew a breath before I began again. "Today is Sunday, right?"

"Why, no; it's Saturday," she replied, now giggling with the other girls at my mistake.

"The church bell rang, though," I tried to defend myself.

"Yes, it's time for the wedding."

"The wedding?"

"You don't live around here, do you?"

"I used to but not no more."

That's when the girls stopped giggling and looked at me serious. Do they know who I am now? I always wondered if people round here ever remembered fondly or not at all. I always had a gut feeling that they probably were happy I left. I wasn't bout to let on who I was even though I wondered what they would do if I told them my name. I would if they asked.

"Well," the same girl spoke again. "Tom Sawyer is marrying Becky Thatcher. I thought everybody in the county knew."

"Like I said, ma'am, I don't live here no more."

The lady then shrugged quiet and lead the rest of the girls down the road that lead to the church. It felt like a punch to the gut to hear that Tom was getting married. Son of a bitch. Why on this day of all days did I have to show up? Then again, why would I? Tom was my best friend once and maybe it was just by the way of the Lord that I was here. I decided to swallow my pride and go see the ceremony.

The damn church was so packed there was no way I was going to be able to find a seat. I looked at all the ladies and gentleman in their best and I looked down on my farmer's clothes. Who was I fooling? I ain't in no shape to show up at a place like this. I saw Tom up at the altar: he still looked like a boy in the face but his body was all man. I had to get the hell out of there. As I scurried down the steps, I saw the bride arrive and now I know why Tom was fancied bout her. I ducked behind the steps because I knew it was bad luck for a man to see the bride before the ceremony began. The music swelled and I realized that the doors behind them had shut. I sat on the steps and listened to the ceremony from the outside.

I never thought I'd see the day where I would see or hear of one of my friends getting married. I sat there, most likely the only person in the county not in the church, and bawled my eyes out. Tom Sawyer, the man who was once the boy I would go on adventures with, was settling down. The realization of how well he had gotten along with out me fell on top of me like a ton of bricks. I was outta there by the time Tom and Becky were announced husband and wife. I ran like crazy man out of the town that never accepted me. I had no business coming back here. All my memories were to remain a long time gone.