My parents are getting older, and I don't have kids. It's hard seeing them age without knowing what my future holds, but I'm learning to stay present.

• At 38, my career took me far away from my family but Northern California has truly become home. 
• At my father's 80th birthday celebration, seeing how much my parents had aged was tough for me.
• The lyrics to a Leonard Cohen song reminded me to stay present and make the moments count.

I grew up in The Hague, with dual citizenship in the United States. In the Netherlands, people are known for being direct. Often, when they caught on to the age difference between my siblings and me, they'd ask, "Were you an accident?" I was not.

After several losses in our extended family in rapid succession, my parents felt the urge to create more life amid their grief. So, I came along; but this also made me what the Dutch would call a late arrival (nakomertje), and my parents were a bit older than those of my friends. On a recent family trip, I started ruminating on what it meant to have older parents — especially when I don't have kids of my own. 

My career took me far from home — and from my family 

After I graduated, I took a journalism job in the Bay Area. I didn't intend to move far away from home for the long haul. Twelve years in, Northern California has become home. I'm privileged to have lived two lives on two different continents, traveling between both when I can. This past summer, my family and I gathered to celebrate my dad's upcoming 80th birthday. My parents generously rented an Airbnb in a quaint Dutch village where we rode bikes through the woods.

The house we stayed in used to belong to the town's pastor who lived there, next door to his church, where today, the bells still ring. Every half hour, the clock chimed with its reminders of the passage of minutes turned to hours to days. After the first couple of nights, I found myself wondering, "Are we running out of time?"  

I know I'm not the only one who struggles to watch her parents age, yet the change is more obvious when in-person visits are less common. Seeing heads full of silver hair or observing their gait and how they look less stable on their feet, it's easy to dwell on how much is already behind us.

However, one night before dinner, I suddenly remembered these lyrics from the late Leonard Cohen's "Anthem": "Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." His advice made the regular church bells sound a little sweeter. No, I can't go back to pick alternative routes that will magically provide the perfect number of hours with my mom and dad, but I can appreciate the time I do have.

Having my own children has never been a priority, but soon, the decision might be made for me

Back at my parents' place before my flight home, I noticed them reading stories to their grandchildren. My siblings and I watched as the kids received their love and attention. Between this birthday trip for my father and with my own birthday approaching next month — it'll be my 38th — I've been thinking about family even more than usual. My parents were 40 and 42 when I was born, and my siblings are seven and nine years older. At 38, I've never been married, while my siblings have taken more traditional routes; they both have the house, the marriage, and the baby carriage.

Even though I love being a daughter and aunt, children haven't been top of mind or heart for me. However, with my fertility window closing, I'm aware the timeline for making a decision — at least about giving birth — is closing in on me. 

I've started picturing myself meeting someone with children so I could still create a space for family and nurturance. At the same time, it's not that I'm expecting that to happen; I don't expect any phase of my life to look a specific way. Every stage of my life has shown me that I'm often out of sync with the cultural "norm" — and that's okay. 

Without small children of my own or following the typical milestones that often mark time for others, I'm learning that I'll need to make my own milestones. But this is a good thing; it means that I get to decide what moments were vital to be present for. And I've also realized that with them in their late 70s and me, in my late 30s, my parents and I aren't out of time yet.