Ship Harbor is my favorite one-mile stroll along the Atlantic. No climbing any of the thirty peaks on Mt. Desert Island.

From that rocky coast of Maine, view the Duck Islands in the distance, a lobster boat crossing by. There Fritz Perls, the father of Gestalt therapy, offered workshop weekends. Wish I participated back in the early 1970s. I missed that experience. Somebody I know did.

Perls wrote the then-famous “In and Out of the Garbage Pail.” The psychologist with the long white beard, like god sitting on pouffy clouds, warned about “unfinished business.” The scientific community criticized him for not being scientific enough.

Unfinished business permeates old folks like me. Nearly nothing matters at this age except for the good health of family and friends.

Me, I want to take care of unfinished business before my time is up. Recently, I read in the Harvard Gazette that joy equals genes for establishing longevity. I hope so.

Outside of Southwest Harbor’s Liquor Locker this morning, I came upon the former owners of Holiday House children’s publishers. We were happy to see each other. Kate is now 87 and John is 90. I recall being angry at them once, years ago. I don’t remember why. No longer do I care about the reason.

Me, letting anger roll off my back? How wonderful. While my darling daughter and daughter-in-law tap out their work emails, or chill as my son takes his highly energetic kids for a swim at Echo Lake Sand beach. I repeatedly utter, “Okay,” also “yep” or even an occasional “whatever.”

Me, I love them so completely. And wonder how they will remember these days, these visits back to our life-framing Mt. Desert Island. When they are old and gray. Long after I’m gone.

Me, I’m happy that mosquitoes left me alone this morning as we treaded along Ship Harbor.