Things took some getting used to here, but we're coping better now. Much better than in the last letter we sent you anyway. Do you even get these? I really hope that you do, but even if you don't, writing them helps to give me some peace of mind. I'm almost done with the editing of the book. It will be sent to the publishers as soon as I'm done writing the afterword, which is proving to be harder than I expected, even after all these years.
It's 1979 now, and I have to say, as strange as it is living your life in 2012 one minute then being sent back to 1938 the next, it has been very interesting living through things we were only taught about in history class. But of course, you know about that because that's what happens when you travel with the Doctor. You also think back on the adventures at the strangest times once they're over.
For example, the other day, I thought of when he took us to Disney World with you in 2012. I remember the Doctor telling us all these random facts about the movies and the parks and rides themselves... And now I think back and see that I've lived through a bunch of those now. We were sent back to New York in 1938... well, that was in April, and by December, when we had become more adjusted to 30's life, we decided that we needed to do something for a bit of fun; we went to see the New York premiere of the first feature-length animated movie: "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves". It's still so strange to think that we were there because we simply wanted to go, not because the Doctor took us there on a whim. It was amazing to see everyone's reactions to what in this day and age is something so new and marvelous, while to us it is commonplace. It gives you a different perspective, I guess. After that, we went to each new animated Disney movie that came out, if only as a reminder of going to the park with you and the Doctor. However, it was much more enjoyable when we had someone else to take with us.
I am hoping that this letter reaches you in a point in your personal timeline when you have met Anthony. If not, I will explain briefly for you: in 1946, your father and I decided to adopt. Your brother, Anthony Brian Williams. He knows you, but I'll explain that later... But we took him with us to all of the movies that came out then, and in 1955, when he was nine years old, we took him to Disneyland just after it opened. He loved it, and even at one point when we left him alone for a minute on Main Street to get a map, we returned to find him sitting on a bench, talking to none other than Walt Disney himself. The Doctor was right: he was a wonderful man. I really do hope that you to meet him some time. The last thing we did that day was ride the Carousel, with your father and I on horses on either side of Anthony, just like we did with you and the Doctor. It was one of the best days of my life, I think; we were all so happy. The only thing missing was you.
Now, Anthony has met you (the older you) and when he was little, knew you as River. We didn't tell him who you actually were at first, but it was your idea for us not to. We later told him that you were his older sister, and you have been/were the best older sister he could have asked for. But then he met you again, and so did we...
I don't know if you can remember any of this, but between the time when we found and lost you in 1969 with the whole ordeal with the Doctor's death and the Silence and the time we met you as Mels in Leadworth in 1996... well, you had to have been living somewhere. We'd always wondered at that until we found a trail of regeneration energy leading to an alley close to our home. We found you, before you were Mels, but after you were the Melody who ran from the orphanage in Florida. The Doctor was always so worried that we didn't get to raise you, but we did. And when we couldn't, in those other times when we still had no clue where you were, he took care of you. But we got to raise you after all.
We had explained everything to Anthony when he was about twelve, so by the time we found you when he was twenty-three, he understood that while you were still his sister, you were now his younger sister. He embraced the timey-wimey-ness (as the Doctor would say) of it all very well. And then, in 1971 when you were three (all things considered regeneration wise), we took you to Disney World when it opened. Remember during that last day in the Magic Kingdom when the Doctor took us, you said to me that there were certain things in the park that you felt like you were remembering? Like you'd been there before? That's why. We did take you there before, but everything that happened between then and when we all went together again locked away those memories.
At the end of the day, we all rode the Carousel: you and Anthony between me and Rory, all of us holding hands across the gaps between horses. You laughed and smiled the whole time, during the entire ride and throughout the entire day. That, I can honestly say, was the best day of my life, and your father's too, I'm sure.
Now, River... Melody... would you do me a favor? Go back there with the Doctor some time. Have fun. Let go of all the barriers you put up and allow yourself to remember and be happy.
I suppose if you want to, you can show the Doctor this letter. If you decide not to, just assure him that we are and have been so happy, and we are grateful to him.
And we love both of you so, so much.