Muerto

So, I'm sitting on the floor of the Tucson airport on the day of departure for Oaxaca and charging my Ipad when I decide I probably ought to pull the address of my host family off my email and write it down.
My suitcase is filled with some gifts that I hope will be right for the family. I called ahead and in my limited Spanish asked whether they had children in the house and learned that a grandbaby was on the way. Somewhere in a blitz of Spanish words, I had also caught the word "muerto."
Now I'm sitting here in the airport hoping to God a baby didn't die. In the suitcase I have an "I heart my abuelitos" toddler shirt. A "Howdy from Tucson" onesie. Maybe the husband died? Mrs. Pacheco did sound like an older lady.
I open the email and begin to write down the address. "101 Huerto Limonares."
Huerto.
The word for orchard.
I chuckle softly. What I thought was an obituary was simply an address. Although I had enjoyed walking around with the mystery in my head, I was worried the whole time that the answer to my big question was going to be a somber one.  How will I react in Spanish? I'd wonder.
I'm now the proud owner of a nifty little mistake. A good omen, I hope.