I lár an tsamhraidh, nuair a bhí an ghrian ag dul faoi agus an spéir líonta le dathanna órga agus corcra, tháinig Siobhán síos an cosán caol a d’airigh mar chuid di féin.

In the middle of summer, when the sun was setting and the sky was filled with golden and purple colors, Siobhán came down the narrow path that felt like a part of her.

Bhí an t-aer lán le boladh milis na bláthanna fiáine agus fuaim mhín na sruthán bheagal a bhí ag sileadh faoina cosa.

The air was full of the sweet scent of wildflowers and the gentle sound of small streams flowing beneath her feet.

Ag deireadh an chosáin, sheas an sean-droichead cloiche.

At the end of the path stood the old stone bridge.

Droichead a raibh oiread sin eachtraí agus cuimhní aige.

A bridge that had so many adventures and memories.

Ach anois, bhí sé ag titim as a chéile, á clúdach ag caonach, a chloch bréan le hinniúin an ama.

But now, it was falling apart, covered with moss, its stones weathered by the passage of time.

Ar a taobh eile den Droichead, bhí Eamon, ag déanamh a bhealach faoin tír.

On the other side of the bridge was Eamon, making his way through the countryside.

Bhí a mhála droma mór agus é ag iniúchadh an áit ar ar chónaigh sé mar thachrán.

His large backpack was packed as he explored the place where he had lived as a child.

Bhí línte an ama le feiceáil ina ghnúis, ach bhí a shúile fós lán d’áthas.

The lines of time were visible on his face, but his eyes were still full of joy.

"Siobhán," arsa Eamon, a ghuth lán den iontas agus den ghrá ag feiceáil a chara d’aoise óige.

"Siobhán," said Eamon, his voice full of wonder and love at the sight of his childhood friend.

D’fheicfeá iad, ina seasamh ar dhá thaobh an droichid, amuigh faoin spéir oscailte.

You could see them, standing on either side of the bridge, under the open sky.

Tháinig meabhair chucu de laetha óige, idir gleo agus gáire, ag rith anonn is anall ar an droichead céanna seo.

Memories of youthful days came back to them, between noise and laughter, running back and forth on this very bridge.

"Tá sé fós anseo, fiú má tá sé ag titim as a chéile," arsa Siobhán ag pointeáil i dtreo an droichid, a cúlóigeanna lán le brionglóidí caillte agus seans nua.

"It’s still here, even if it's falling apart," said Siobhán, pointing toward the bridge, her eyes full of lost dreams and new chances.

Bhí Eamon brónach a fheiceáil cé chomh beag a d’athraigh an áit seo.

Eamon was sad to see how little this place had changed.

Ach bhí rud éigin sa seandacht a tharraing a aird.

But there was something about its old age that caught his attention.

Seans b’fhéidir.

Perhaps an opportunity.

Foinse a raibh uathúil ann.

A unique source.

"Céard atá tú a dhéanamh anseo anois, Siobhán?

"What are you doing here now, Siobhán?"

" a d’iarr Eamon.

Eamon asked.

"Is múinteoir mé anois," a mhínigh Siobhán.

"I'm a teacher now," Siobhán explained.

"Ach tá paisean agam don stair áitiúil.

"But I have a passion for local history.

Tá an oiread sin á chailliúint.

So much is being lost.

Tá cairde ag imigh agus caointe sean-scéalta.

Friends have left, and old stories have faded."

"Thaispeáin siad a gcaidreamh a bhí chomh domhain leis an droichead a sheas roimh iad.

They shared a bond as deep as the bridge that stood before them.

"An gcabhairfeá liom an droichead seo a athmhaisiú?

"Would you help me restore this bridge?

Ní amháin gur droichead é, ach iarsma de na chuimhní go léir atá againn," a d’fhiafraigh Siobhán.

It’s not just a bridge but a relic of all the memories we have," Siobhán asked.

Bhí Eamon ag streachailt leis.

Eamon was torn.

Bhí an saol mór aige le taistil agus tairiscintí móra ag glaoch air.

He had a world to travel and lucrative offers calling him.

Ach, chomh fada agus sheas sé ansin ar an droichead, d’fhill cuimhní a linbh.

But, as long as he stood there on the bridge, childhood memories returned.

"Ní féidir liom glacadh leis an méid atá á chailleadh.

"I can’t accept the amount of loss.

Ar chóir dom tréimhse a thógáil agus oibriú anseo?

Should I take some time and work here?"

" a d’fhiafraigh Eamon dó féin os ard.

Eamon asked himself aloud.

Chuir Siobhán a lámh ar a lámh.

Siobhán placed her hand on his hand.

"Tá gach rud luachmhar anseo, rud nach féidir á chailleadh go héasca," a dúirt sí go díograiseach.

"Everything valuable is here, something that can't be easily lost," she said passionately.

Bhí an ceart aici.

She was right.

Bhí sliocht na ngléasanna áirithe dá gcuid féin.

The remains of particular instruments belonged to them.

Rinne Eamon gconaí d’aon seó.

Eamon made a decision for one show.

"Tabharfaidh mé mo chinneadh anseo," a dúirt sé os ard.

"I'll make my decision here," he said aloud.

Chuir sé glao ar a leanúna.

He called his followers.

Shocraigh sé briseadh a thógáil, níos mó a fhiosrú faoin bplean caomhnaithe.

He decided to take a break and explore the conservation plan in more detail.

"Beidh muid ag obair air seo le chéile," a dúirt sé, ag leanúint Siobhán ar ais síos an cosán.

"We will work on this together," he said, following Siobhán back down the path.

Bhí grian an tráthnóna ag soilsigh orthu agus bláthanna ag tnúth le slí le himeacht an lae.

The evening sun was shining on them, and the flowers were looking forward to the passing of the day.

Bhí bealach nua tosaithe.

A new journey had begun.

Le chéile, bhí siad chun an droichead sin a thabhairt ar ais go saol, leis an cheardaíocht agus an grá céanna a bhí imithe i léig.

Together, they were going to bring that bridge back to life, with the same craft and love that had faded away.