Claddagh

He was fidgeting nervously across the table, his eyes darting to mine and then away.  His leg shook uncontrollably so that my arms on the table were vibrating with him.  The restaurant clanged with dishes while the murmur of dinner conversation swarmed around us.  I smiled at his angsty expression, which I always seemed to find adorably quirky.

"Are you allright, Kevin?  Are you nervous about something?  What’s happening?", I inquired, as I laughed at his obvious tells.  His leg ceased convulsions, he looked me in the eyes and grabbed my hands earnestly.

"I am", he said frankly.  He held my right hand, kissed it, and said, "I have to fix something."

He gingerly ran his fingers over the claddagh ring on my right hand, which I had put on with the heart facing outward.  He slipped the ring off of my finger, reversed it, and slid it slowly back to where it belongs; with the heart facing in.  The heart in my chest beat fast as my eyes searched his face for the sincerity behind his actions that I longed to be there.

"Really?", I asked him, incredulously. 

"Really.  This is the way it should be", he said as he kissed my hand again.

There was a swell in my heart and a surge through my body that I had never felt before.

He had just made me his.

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(The History of Claddagh)