Bhí brat sneachta ag clúdach Baile Átha Cliath, Bliain Nua ag druidim linn.

There was a blanket of snow covering Baile Átha Cliath, the New Year approaching.

Lasadh soilse Nollag timpeall ar chaisleán Bhaile Átha Cliath, áit a raibh Siobhán, Cormac, agus Aoife i lár ullmhúchán tógtha don athaontú teaghlaigh.

Christmas lights were lit around Caisleán Bhaile Átha Cliath, where Siobhán, Cormac, and Aoife were in the midst of hectic preparations for the family reunion.

Bhí Siobhán ag rith thart mar a bheadh sí sa shithe - liostaí sa láimh aici, to-doanna le déanamh sula dtiocfadh an slua.

Siobhán was running around as if she were in the Sidhe - lists in hand, to-dos to complete before the crowd arrived.

Bhí Cormac díreach tar éis a theacht, scíth na laethanta saoire ina eachmairí.

Cormac had just arrived, taking a break from the holidays.

Bhí Aoife fós i bpáirt na haeráide, dar leis an fhuacht a bhí á bhfulaingt aici.

Aoife was still partially immersed in the climate, according to the cold she was enduring.

“Tá an t-amchlár á leanúint againn, ach cá bhfuil an soláthróir bia!

"We're following the schedule, but where is the food supplier!"

” a d'ardaigh Siobhán go mífhreagrach, an strus ag cur brú uirthi.

Siobhán raised her voice, stressed out.

Bhí scairt a fón póca gan trua, ach b'é an drochscéal a tháinig.

Her phone rang mercilessly, but the news was bad.

An soláthróir bia, tar éis méid áirithe cúpla lá ó shin, ní fhéadfaí iad a chur i láthair.

The food supplier, after a certain amount was arranged a few days ago, couldn't deliver.

Cuireadh amú ar a hiarrachtaí uile.

Her efforts were all for nothing.

“Siobhán, ná bí buartha.

"Siobhán, don't worry.

Déanfaimid an chócaireacht muid féin," a mhol Cormac, le meangadh gáire ina ghuth.

We'll do the cooking ourselves," suggested Cormac, with a smile in his voice.

"Is féidir linn é a láimhseáil.

"We can handle it."

" Mheas Siobhán gur cinneadh mire é, ach ní raibh rogha eile aici.

Siobhán thought it was a crazy decision, but she had no other choice.

Bhí Boilg Aoife fós amhrasach.

Aoife's stomach was still doubtful.

“An bhfuil an gheimhreadh seo seo chomh fíochmhar an whole time?

"Has this winter been this fierce the whole time?"

” Ardaigh sí un cosúil leis an teaghlach, gan fonn.

She raised a point with the family, not in high spirits.

Ach, tar éis scéalta fá chultúr na Nollag a chloisteáil, spreaghadh í.

But after hearing stories about Christmas culture, she was inspired.

Thosaigh Siobhán agus Cormac an céim mhór seo.

Siobhán and Cormac embarked on this big step.

Rinne siad maróga láimhe, ceanláin le slumpaí spíosraí, agus ceapaire prátaí rósta — biachlár a raibh taithí mhaith comhfhiosach acu.

They made handmade puddings, mulled wine with spice lumps, and roasted potato sandwiches — a menu they had a good, conscious experience with.

Rinne siad gáire le chéile, ag cócaireacht taobh istigh de na ballaí clocha galánta.

They laughed together, cooking inside the elegant stone walls.

Nuair a tháinig an lá, d'fhill an teaghlach.

When the day came, the family returned.

Bhíodh crann Nollag sna hallaí malairtach, bláthchrann lúthógach tánaí ina ráidín, las taibhseach.

There was a Christmas tree in the long halls, a slender, trembling tree proudly standing, brightly lit.

Tosaíodh an bhéile, agus b'fhada nach raibh an réimse sonrasta.

The meal began, and it wasn't long before the atmosphere became vibrant.

Ach ansin, tháinig dorchadas gan chuireadh.

But then, darkness arrived uninvited.

D'imigh an chadhnra, gach soilse d'impigh.

The power went out, every light failed.

Ní raibh an dara díol ar na glimeadh stórta — ní rinneadh a dhath acu.

There was no second act for the stored candles — none of them worked.

Shuigh an clann, ach chuir lasracha na gcnámh thart orthu an imeachtroimhe sin.

The family sat, but the glow of the fires around them softened the previous mishap.

Caint idirmheánach.

In-between conversations.

Scéalta móra faoi thréimhsí caite, aislingí todhchaí.

Great stories about times past, dreams of the future.

Chuaigh carúil Nollag ar fud an tseomra.

Christmas carols filled the room.

Bhí Aoife ag gáire mar nach raibh léi ar feadh tamaill dheireanach.

Aoife was laughing in a way she hadn't been for a long time.

Siobhán, ag iarraidh gach rud a bheith foirfe, faoi deara go raibh buanna ag an aileadóireacht féin.

Siobhán, who wanted everything to be perfect, realized there were benefits in spontaneity.

Críochnaíodh an oíche, agus gheall an teaghlach gurbh iad na mionsonraí neamhthábhakte.

The night ended, and the family promised that the details were unimportant.

Nocht Siobhán an lá léi.

Siobhán revealed the day to her.

Ní raibh foirfeacht an fíordhóigh — ach an chónascann teaghlaigh, an meascán an scéil.

Perfection was not the true path — but family connection, the blend of the story.

"Tá géarghá leis an teaghlach," a dúirt sí.

"There is a great need for family," she said.

Anois, bhí sí á ráireachtaí gile na Nollag anseo, comhghleascadh áthasach acu le chéile.

Now, she was enjoying the bright moments of Christmas here, delighting in their happy gathering together.