Bhí an ghaoth ag séideadh go fíochmhar thar Aillte an Mhothair, na tonnta ag bualadh in aghaidh na gcarránta le neart nach bhfacthas riamh cheana.

The wind was blowing fiercely over the Aillte an Mhothair, the waves crashing against the cliffs with a force never seen before.

Bhí an aimsir fuar, an fharraige garbh, agus scamall dorcha ag sáith gan trócaire, ach bhí solas geal ag scalladh ó fhuinneoga an tí thíos léi, ag tabhairt cuireadh do Niamh, Conor, agus Aoife teacht isteach.

The weather was cold, the sea rough, and dark clouds looming mercilessly, but a bright light was shining from the windows of the house below, inviting Niamh, Conor, and Aoife to come inside.

Bhí deireadh seachtaine an gheimhridh rompu, agus cé go raibh Nollaig ag teannadh orainn, níorbh é seo an Nollaig a bhíodh acu.

A winter weekend lay ahead of them, and although Christmas was nearing, this was not their usual Christmas.

Bhí siad i rith an tsamhraidh, sa teachín beag a bhí bunaithe ag taobh na haillte fada ó shin ag a n-athair.

They were in the midst of summer, at the little cottage set by the cliffs long ago by their father.

Anois, bhí na cuimhní ag teacht ar ais.

Now, memories were flooding back.

Bhí siad tagtha suas chun bailiú lena chéile tar éis bás tobann an athar.

They had come up to gather together after their father's sudden passing.

"Tá sé aisteach a bheith anseo gan Daid," a dúirt Aoife go ciúin, ag breathnú amach an fhuinneog ar an aigéan fairsing.

"It's strange to be here without Dad," said Aoife quietly, looking out the window at the vast ocean.

Bhí a croí trom, an t-athair a d’aithin sí mar comhpháirtí sa saol imithe, agus í fós ag iarraidh a ghlór maith a chloisteáil ag tabhairt comhairle faoi na healaíona níba thábhachtaí dí.

Her heart was heavy, the father she recognized as a partner in life gone, and she was still yearning to hear his good voice offering advice on the arts that were most important to her.

Chuir Niamh lámh thart ar a gualainn.

Niamh put an arm around her shoulder.

"Caithfidh muid é seo a dhéanamh le chéile," a d’fhreagair sí, cé gur mhothaigh sí leis an gceist mhór a sheas rompu.

"We have to do this together," she replied, even as the big question loomed before her.

Tosaíonn an triúr deartháir agus deirfiúr ag scrúdú na seomraí, seomra ar seomra phlódaithe le seanleabhair, boird oibre agus seoda ceilte ón am atá caite.

The three siblings began to explore the rooms, room by room filled with old books, work tables, and hidden treasures from the past.

Bhí Conor ag iarraidh a chur i gceart an truicir ócáidí grinn.

Conor was trying to trigger some humorous events.

"Féach ar na seanleabhair sin, nach baintiú aurobics iad!

"Look at those old books, aren't they aerobics relics!"

" Chuir a meangadh gáire beag ar aghaidh Aoife, ach níor bhain sé den fatois a mhair san aer.

His small grin brought a smile to Aoife's face, but it didn't erase the worry that lingered in the air.

D’éirigh an díospóireacht tionúil agus spraoiúil maidir le todhchaí an tí.

The debate about the future of the house became lively and playful.

"B'fhéidir gur chóir dúinn é a dhíol?

"Perhaps we should sell it?"

" arsa Conor, leathigh geal ina shamhlaíocht faoi chleachtadh nua eachtraí taobh amuigh den gheimhreadh adhmaid.

said Conor, a glint in his imagination about new adventures beyond the wooden winter.

Ach sheas Niamh go daingean lena tuairim féin.

But Niamh stood firm in her own opinion.

"Is é seo ár dteach teaghlaigh.

"This is our family home.

Conas is féidir linn é a thabhairt suas?

How can we give it up?"

"Tráthnóna Lá Bliana Nua, bhí an aimsir fós gan séanadh.

On New Year's Eve, the weather remained unrelenting.

Go tobann, chuir sé ag smaoineamh orthu bronntanas beag a fháil ón gceannaireacht, litreacha cosair bhoga fillte ina lámh.

Suddenly, they thought to receive a small gift from beyond, soft envelopes wrapped in their hands.

D'oscail Niamh é an mhónadh leis amhras sealbhach, ach is beag íonadh a bhí orthu nuair a fhaigheann siad litreacha óna n-athair féin.

Niamh opened one cautiously, a possessive doubt, but they were only slightly surprised when they found letters from their father himself.

"Mo pháistí a stór," tosnaíonn sé, "ba mhaith liom an teach seo a stóráil mar áit iontais, áit croí teaghlaigh le coinneáil níos gaire.

"My dear children," it began, "I want this house to be cherished as a place of wonder, a warm family heart to hold closer.

Coimeádfaí é sin ar son na hoícheanta Nollag, an doimhneacht chroí mar a coinnigh mo mháthair dom.

It would be kept for those Christmas nights, the deepness of heart as my mother kept it for me."

"Thit tost isteach sa seomra, ach ansin tuiscint buan agus gan áit.

Silence fell in the room, but then a lasting and permanent understanding.

Bhí an teach níos mó ná foirgneamh, turas taobh istigh acu tríd an bhfearthainn.

The house was more than a building, a journey within them through the storm.

D’fhan siad le chéile, ar lá Mór an Nollaigh, agus chinn siad an teach a choimeád mar áit teaghlaigh.

They stayed together on Christmas Day and decided to keep the house as a family place.

Bhí sé ina áit a raibh grá agus cuimhní dearfacha acu le chéile.

It became a place where they shared love and fond memories together.

Coimeádfaí an teach, solas sa dorchadas as a dhúiseoir.

The house would be preserved, a light in the darkness as its watchman.

Mhairfeadh ‘saoráid’ an teaghlach Gaeilge sa teach beag teaghlaigh agus bhí beatha ag leanúint.

The "saoráid" of the family in Gaeilge would thrive in the small family home, and life would continue.