Valentine's Day, 1991.
I was eleven, and hadn't yet learned the fine art of flower pressing. The excitement of receiving a Valentine was pretty intense. If you were given a red rose; the intentions were clear, while traditionally; a white rose was given for friendship.
But even just being acknowledged with a white rose from a boy led to hopes, and fuelled crushes and daydreams.
Experiencing the giddiness that accompanied these white roses was almost better than the "sealing the deal" with a red rose. Like "A Kiss to Build a Dream On"; these crispy, dry bumps in my old diary still manage to revoke emotions and memories twenty-four years on.