A few weeks ago, I took a break from writing and indulged myself in the dulcet sunsets of Goa. (No, not sunrises. There was an after-party.)

I was back in Goa after 31 years.

As you can imagine, I’m not much of a beach person. I am a water person, though, especially if it’s a river in the mountains.

A lot has changed in Goa. The infrastructure certainly has. The taxi unions, not so much.

And if, like me, you don’t drink and drive, self-drive isn’t really an option. So a quick tip: call your friends in Goa and ask for a “trusted guy.” It can make a world of difference. Thank me later.

One morning, I did manage to get up early enough to walk to the beach. And there they were: two MiG-29Ks of the Indian Naval Aviation Service, flying in formation.

It was possibly my most joyous moment of the trip.

Flying a fighter jet is hard. Landing one on a moving aircraft carrier is harder still.

Watching those two aircraft got me thinking about two things I’ve come to believe strongly.

One, your target in life will keep moving.

There will be wind, bad weather, poor visibility, low fuel — and all sorts of things you didn’t plan for. You are still expected to steer through them and land. Sometimes by the instruments. Sometimes by sight.

And two, your wingman makes all the difference.

In war or in peace.

Your wingman could be a friend from school or college. A spouse or partner. A colleague. Someone who knows when to speak, when to stay quiet, and when to simply fly alongside you.

Know your wingman. Find them. Keep them. Treasure them.

Because the calm you see on the ground, or in life, is often possible only because someone, somewhere, is sweating in peace with you.