In the middle of the night, as a particularly beastly winter storm batters the Washington coast, the Tree of Life will finally succumb. The winds will smack its stout branches until it finally collapses in a heap on the sand.
Or it will happen during a king tide, when the Pacific inches up the beach, and the dirt bluff to which the evergreen clings will absorb just enough water to loosen the tenuous grip of its roots. Sagging under the tremendous weight of its century-old trunk, the Tree of Life will flop ungraciously to the ground.
Or maybe the end will come on a bright sunny day, when the
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