I trudged myself to work on Boxing Day, heavy and overweight from all the food I’d piled on the day before. But even through bleary eyes, I noticed a parcel on top of my desk.

People need to know that others think highly of them when they’re alive- Kristina Chetcuti

With a sudden little skip in my gait, I reached the desk, ripped open the parcel covered in UK postage stamps, and found a quirky little book: a translation of a German novel called The Mussel Feast by Birgit Vanderbeke.

But not only that: tucked inside the book was a yearly subscription, and every season throughout 2013 I shall be receiving a European book in translation.

But who was the sender? Well, I don’t know. There was a card, but for the life of me I couldn’t (and still can’t) decipher the handwriting.

Of course I was delighted: not only because books are my favourite sort of presents, but also because of the mystery element.

And so, dear secret gift sender, thank you for your Mussel Feast – which I read in a sitting while eating a piadina at break time – for it cheered up my Boxing Day.

Usually Boxing Day is always a slightly downbeat re-run of the previous day’s activities. I feel pudgy; I can’t button up my jeans; my head is sort of woozy; my daughter uses me as a dummy to try out all her presents; and I always get that guilty feeling that perhaps the presents I gave out could have been a bit grander.

This year, the day was sparked up by a book dressed up in question marks and Christmas lights.

So I started mulling over the idea of whether I ought to make that as my New Year resolution – being a secret-Santa-all-year-round.

I was discussing this with one of my dearest and oldest friends. She is the type who makes light of these resolutions. We are, you could say, complete opposites: she is scientific and practical while I am, how shall I put it, airy fairy.

While I was reading Camus’s L’Etranger, she was reading the International Journal of Biological Sciences. While I was studying archaeology because I fancied myself Indiana Jones, she was reading for her B.Sc in nursing, because, ever the practical she wanted to make a difference in people’s lives when they were sick.

In other words, if something needs to be done, she’s not the type to wait for January 1 to get round to it.

So I was quite taken aback when, upon mentioning my idea for being a secret gifter, she said: “Hmm, well, I too have a New Year’s resolution for 2013.”

I said: “!”

She replied: “I am tired of hearing eulogies on people after they are dead. What’s the point? People need to know that others think highly of them when they’re alive, not when they’re no longer around.”

So as of this year, she will start telling people to their face, all the positive marks they leave on her life. “Why do we have to wait for the priest to do that from the pulpit when we’re lying in the coffin? Pfft, such a waste. I’m going to start saying things in the here and now,” she went on.

“Okay. Go ahead,” I said, cocking my head expectantly.

For which I got a grin and a, “Well, it’s good that I got you to hang out with while we’re waiting in this bloody cold.” (By the way, this conversation was taking place, as most of our conversations are bound to these days, while we were waiting for our kids to come out of ballet or Catechism).

Of course, she has a point. I’ve been reflecting on this ever since. Everyone suddenly becomes an exemplary man or woman when they die – but would they have an inkling of how inspiring they were to other people?

How often do I tell my friends and family why I enjoy their company? I’m sure there are ways of saying that without having to get the box of tissues out or without sounding like a soppy sop, with violins in the background.

Remember some years back, there was a little shop in Valletta called Reasons For? Well, I think that’s the game we all ought to start playing: stating the reasons why we like each other.

The more I think about it, the more I think we all ought to adopt these two resolutions for 2013, en masse.

Can you imagine how cheerful we’d all be if every now and then we all found a present waiting for us at the beginning of our day?

And if during the said day, someone actually told us a very tiny thing about why they like us?

Oh, and I like you because you take the time to read me.

krischetcuti@gmail.com